Saturday, July 2, 2011

Rural Valley

I was told that RV was both The Hood and The Sticks. To me it's neither, well maybe a bit of the latter.

Rural Valley doesn't feel like a town or a village, it feels more like a hamlet that was never finished. It's just one road that twists and curves its way along a small creek and parallel (on the most part) to route 85. There's a church and a fire station and a bank. There's a hardware store and a diner that's open for breakfast and a bed & breakfast that's been for sale for ten years.

There's no competition here. No one is going to try and open up another hardware store in Rural Valley. There's no need. And the bars are spread out just enough that they act as miniature versions of school districts: You go to the bar you can walk to. If you decide to try another bar, you'll probably end up getting in a fight or some kind of trouble.

That's just the way it is in RV.

Sitting on the stoop outside the firehall on a Friday evening provides a fairly entertaining time. First of all, you don't want anyone to see you drinking beer. It's not permitted at the fire hall. So pour it in an empty can of Mountain Dew or something. You'll see groups of girls fly by in Jeeps or trucks on their way to Charlie's, the pizza joint that also serves as the only bar in town for the "younger" (21-27 year old) crowd. You'll see lots of guys go by on Harleys and sports cars not really going anywhere, but they drive to be seen. Everyone you see will give you a wave. And you wave back, because it helps you fit it. You wave back because it makes you feel like you're a part of this place. You wave back because that's what people do down here and if you don't, everyone will know you're just visiting.

And Rural Valley doesn't take kindly to visitors.
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