Ron McCoy is home from vacation and went with me to Afton Station today. It was drippy and damp on our trip there, but we didn't see any of the high winds or teeming rains that had been predicted. Nevertheless, by noon we had only had one visitor and Ron was teasing me, saying I must have been inflating visitor numbers while he was away. I think I eventually convinced him that it wasn't true. Early afternoon was punctuated only by a very tantalizing phone call from a documentary producer in Los Angeles, but I won't elaborate on that until things move along a little further. Ron and I sat outside most of the day (in the covered area, of course). It was equally damp both inside and out, so we decided we might as well enjoy the light breeze outside and maybe lure some visitors in.
Two little boys on bicycles were speeding through the gigantic puddle across from the Station, having a ball splashing themselves and each other. It started us talking about what it must be like to grow up in a tiny, almost deserted town with virtually nothing to amuse a young person. I suspect it might be a great way to grow up, without a lot of big city or suburban influences. There's a lot to be said about making one's own fun, especially when one has only his own mind to work with. We wondered how they'd describe their childhood after they grew up.
Late afternoon brought a few more visitors. Two older gentlemen from elsewhere in the state stopped in on their way home from an outing to Branson, MO. They were total car nuts and one of them has quite a number of vintage vehicles himself.
Our final visitors were three couples from British Columbia, each driving a brightly painted custom hot rod. They drove to Chicago, then were working their way back on Route 66. They have six weeks to complete their odyssey, and seemed to be having a ball. One of the women was the very first visitor ever to ask to photograph my condom machine (a very old-fashioned one, taken from the old Buffalo Ranch when it was torn down). It's in the restroom, not in working order, and I think probably most people either ignore it or are too embarrassed to mention it although it is quite quaint. This lovely Canadian lady had no such compunctions.
Here are their pretty cars...