Last Monday in The Boro. Lorna was fasting. I wasn't. Instead, I rode my bicycle a little, then caught a late lunch from Gordie Tindall at the Spud Boy Diner shortly before he closed. The earliest picture Gordie has of the diner was taken in 1927. It was a shell when he found and restored it. Gordon is one of those people who was born too late. His car is a 1950 Hudson - unrestored. Gondon is like a coelacanth, just a little out of sync with the modern world. Only in a place like Lanesboro could he even vaguely fit in. The diner just feels right with him behind the counter.
Lunch was good, a 1927 sized hamburger on a toasted bun, and one freshly sliced french-fried potato. There was half a fresh baked pie on the counter. Gordon didn't try to tempt me, didn't mention the pie - just slid it on the counter next to me and nonchalantly lifted the glass cover so I would smell it as I ate the burger and fries. I really should have been fasting anyway and I had a few more miles to ride. I passed on the pie.
|Gloves, Ray-bans, vintage coffee grinder. Vintage? Hell, everything is vintage. I'm vintage. Even my bike is vintage.|
|Potato slicer, hot grease, my burger.|
|Gordon's office. With the optional Pall Malls. Considers filtered cigarettes "new-fangled".|