Given that the 50 feet preceding this sign smelled strongly of cat yellow.
I'm not falling for that again.
He walks this stretch of road each day and picks up garbage, just out of the kindness of his heart.
(I think that wavy line represents a mountain ridgeline.)
Wallace has designated a manhole in this intersection as the center of the universe, but my hometown of Ashland, VA has its own claim to the contrary. We need some kind of town-versus-town tug-of-war match to settle this dispute.
Any modern-day prospectors using Google Maps to search for "bordellos" would be pretty bummed out when they ended up here.
In other prostitute-related news, I noticed a local inn on my map named "Molly B'Damm". I thought this might be an awesome pun on molybdenum (which I thought might be mined in the area), but it turns out it's actually a reference to Maggie Hall, a true hooker with a heart of gold. (I'm not sure what the origin of her nickname is; perhaps it's molybdenum-related after all.)
I'm getting sloppy!
Barbara (left) maintains a beautiful garden right beside the Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes, and hands out free seed packets to passersby. I got Sweet William and foxglove, which I'll plant somewhere on down the road. Barbara also writes the names of her visitors on colored plastic balls (like those you see in the background) that she displays in the garden. Frankie (center) and McKenna were just passing by and stopped to chat.
He has a massive complex of sales locations on the east side of town, and parking lots full of trucks on the west.
