I was driving a VW Westphalia in Wyoming on my way to see the Buffalo Bill Museum in Cody. A distant relative lived in Cheyenne and I was close so I stopped for a visit. She and her husband offered me a shower and a bed for the night. I accepted.
They decided to show me the town and then argued about where to go first. "She wants to see the airport!" "No, she wants to eat buffalo burgers!" I offered to do both and asked what there was to see at the airport. "Buffalo!" they exclaimed. So we drove to the airport first and I had the chance to see the small buffalo herd that roamed at the end of the landing strips. Then we drove to the local buffet where I treated them to dinner and I had a buffalo burger for the first time.
In Iowa, local people took me to an area near Clear Lake and showed me where Buddy Holly's plane crashed. Several of them mentioned they liked Mexican food so we stopped at the neighborhood store to pick up the ingredients for enchilada pie. This was farm country. The proprietor did his best but all he had was a dusty bottle of taco sauce and a 50-pound sack of pinto beans. Luckily, I had enough with me to make a smaller version of the recipe and everyone had a taste. I stocked up in Ames before my next visit.
If you stop for the day and want to try the local fare, ask the waitress or waiter what he or she recommends. I was about to order a burger and fries in Missouri when a man came into the restaurant kitchen with fresh-caught trout. I immediately put myself on the list for the pan-fried delicacy and corn on the cob with real local butter.
My hair is easy to care for and it's been cut by stylists in South Dakota, Nebraska and Texas. It's been trimmed by barbers in Louisiana, Nevada and California. If you're female and must go to a barber shop, remember that it's one of the last male hangouts. The guys will be silent or talk about inconsequential subjects like the weather or crops until you leave. It's a little uncomfortable invading their territory but I have always received excellent, courteous service.
Women in the laundry have invited me to potluck suppers at the church ("You don’t need to bring anything, honey, we've got plenty for one more"), bingo night at the community center, bowling at the VFW hall and dancing at the armory. I've been to 4 a.m. coffee with farmers' wives and have managed to decline their breakfast offer once I've convinced them that I'll be driving, not plowing. They usually fill my thermos and pack a couple of biscuits and homemade jam "for the road."
I’m not saying everyone is polite and helpful or all small towns are wonderful. There have been a few rude people and unfriendly places along the way. If you're not a full-timer, try planning your trips so you’re not driving until you drop or are forced to find a parking lot to get a few hours of sleep. If you are a full-timer, slow down. Take your time and ask questions about the local area. You'll find many people willing to share if you're willing to listen.
