Who are we? We are our stories.

Friday, June 27, 2014

A 1927 Late Lunch

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. Gordon 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".

3 comments:

gabriel R. said...

one, nice images
two, excellent job resisting the pie.
three, always the perfect narrative...

Elaine Toft (BloggerToots) said...

What 'gabriel' said, always the perfect narative, always a treat.

Gunnar Berg said...

Thank you both.