|Biker stops at drive-thru window|
For now I don't mind, although on frosty mornings like today it's a little tough to push myself out into the cold.
On warm days we too often lately stop at the drive-thru for an ice cream cone for Ma, who figures it will be closed in a month so we might as well take advantage before it's too late. I'm partial to Rolo ice cream. Everett won't eat anything — not even fries — while he's driving, as it is too distracting, he says. But one day last week he ordered a "blizzard" and pulled into the elementary school parking lot so he could spoon it up while I hurried through the ice cream. You have to: even though I always order a "small," it's huge and melting all over the place if you don't keep it licked. Dirty job, but somebody has to ....
The dairy bar has been up for sale for more than a year already. Any takers out there? Long hours for half the year, hard work, but "they" say these little drive-thrus are deadly moneymakers. This particular one has been a busy place ever since I was a teenager and we'd drive here from Margo on weekend nights for a burger and fries, and of course in hopes of meeting up with other teenagers on the prowl. It's changed hands several times but still seems to be a going concern.
The deep-fried pickles are to die for.