I love small towns....

MNElkNut

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I bought my Dad's Polaris Ranger and had to go into the local License Bureau to get the paperwork done. I stopped in to ask a question today and the lady says, "Hi Mr. XXXX". I asked my question, she answered and then asked if I wanted to do the transfer now. I replied I didn't have a bill of sale. She said, "here is a form". I said "great, I can go have my Dad sign it". She said, "He might be in the parking lot".

I love small towns.

What are your small town stories?
 
I have never in my life seen a Hardware store as complete, well stocked, well staffed and outgoing as the Cedar Hardware store.

Small village close to us (which has amazing smoked meats as well) has a few stores, icluding a market, awesome ice cream stand, great taco bar and exactly the kind of bar you'd expect to find in Northern MI.

But that hardware store man, it's legit. They just don't carry lumber. You gotta call one of the Bugais for your locally cut lumber.
 
The True Value Hardware & Lumber Store in Creede, CO. Great place to decompress after you've been drug thru every boutique in Creede.

..and it has mounts and knives gents.

The place I get my hair cut in Sutton's Bay is a combination sporting goods store & barber shop.

If that ain't heaven, I don't want to go.
 
This is no longer true but back in the 90s I lived in a large metro dump and I'd call my small town banker if I needed a loan. They'd put the money in my account and then send the paperwork for me to sign. Not anymore. Small towns are great. I just hope most in the city love that life more than I love country life. That way they will stay there!!
 
Years ago the late great Pearl was bit by a rattler and spent three separate nights at the vets in Chinook. Total bill including meds and imaging was $170. On the way home to Ontario she was well enough to let work with the other two dogs for the final rooster of my possession limit. Danged if she didn't run into the fence and tear open a huge hole in her shoulder. It was Thanksgiving weekend but the lady vet in Malta came in and I assisted while she cleaned up the wound and sewed it up (twenty stitches). Then charged me $150 and apologized for it being so much. "But it is Thanksgiving weekend." As she suspected might happen, it got infected and had to be reopened and cleaned again a week after we were home. Local vet charged over $500. He put in two drain tubes this time. I picked up a cone for her but never used it. Told Pearl to leave the wound alone ... and she did. Two weeks later I show up to have the tubes removed. "Where's her cone." Didn't need it. She does what I tell her. That old guy was flabbergasted.
 
Where I get my haircut here in town “Cougar Cuts” (no, not THAT kind of cougar gents😉) has great ladies working there who all hunt, mounts everywhere on the walls, one gal has a trained shed dog and always is showing me pics! PLUS they serve you a beer while you’re waiting for your turn in the chair!

Our town is the county seat…”biggest” town in county and we just now broke 11,000 people. Course we live outta town, too busy for us😉
 
Christmas 2014 back home in Pennsylvania Nittany got into some rat poison that grandparents forgot they had out. Local vet saved her life on Christmas day and was happy to do it.
Christmas at grandparents house again late 90s 4 degrees and furnace goes out at 11am just as all the family was arriving. Grandpa can pretty much fix anything, but this required a special part to be fixed after some investigating. Call up local guy and he drops everything and comes out to the farm and saves Christmas and had dinner with us.
 
One of the things I miss is the Saturday night dances at the local Grange or someones barn. Most of the time the band consisted of a guitar player, a fiddle player and a banjo player. Sometimes a harmonic and/or accordion player would join in. It was where I had my first dance, a waltz and later on I learned how to square dance. Good times, great memories
 
I have never in my life seen a Hardware store as complete, well stocked, well staffed and outgoing as the Cedar Hardware store.

Small village close to us (which has amazing smoked meats as well) has a few stores, icluding a market, awesome ice cream stand, great taco bar and exactly the kind of bar you'd expect to find in Northern MI.

But that hardware store man, it's legit. They just don't carry lumber. You gotta call one of the Bugais for your locally cut lumber.
I appreciate an appreciation of a good hardware store.
 
A big city small town anecdote:
About 18 years back I was living in South Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Was a tough neighborhood at the time, but is all pretty gentrified now. I was in college at a public university and the rent was dirt cheap with close proximity to Manhattan via the J train.

Anyway, in NYC at the time you had to move your car twice a week for an hour a day so they could sweep the streets. This happened early in the morning on my old block and a parking spot on the opposite side of the street from the next days’ sweeping was coveted so you didn’t have to get up early to move the car. My block was a well known drug spot, so most of the regular dudes had an eye on the block’s comings and goings. Looking out for cops, jackers (dude’s whose profession is robbing drug dealers), or anything else amiss. I’d somehow endeared myself to everyone by nature of being around for a bit (basic Spanish helped) and helping their kids build skateboard ramps and passing them my old National Geographic magazines (there’s a whole wide world out there, kids!)

Finally, the story: One day I’m riding my bicycle home on a Sunday afternoon after some beers elsewhere and see a golden parking spot that’d let me sleep in the next day. I ditched the bike real fast and ran to my car, whipped that thing across the street to the good spot and felt real self assured.

Then, a few of the block regulars came running from up asking, “Yo, you good, man!?” My response was, “Oh hell yeah, check my parking spot!” Their response was “We thought someone was after you and were ready to roll!” All while lifting their shirts and showing me they were packing pistols in their waistbands.

Long story long, guess it’s good to know the neighbors had my back. Neighborhoods in the big city are all small towns in their own weird and twisted ways.
 
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