Dining in a diner
Once again, I forget to start the GPS recorder before setting out. Guess my trip map will have some unexplained empty segments. Oh well.
We left the campground, ready to see new places. Some things aren’t direct; we covered familiar territory for the first hour or so, before getting into the northeast section of our trip. Not many days left before we run out of interstate, and get on that sprint for home. The kids had suggested some areas to visit, based on their personal experience. I remain unsure if we went to the right towns, but when asked we can pretend senior moments.
The move into Maine, on another of those mid-span bridge crossings, reminds me that this is familiar territory. Not from personal travel, but from a lifetime of TV. I know these names. The coastal areas are every bit as touristy as I had guessed. After all, to make money in high summer, it helps to have a small hotel to catch the unwary money. Trying to find a restaurant proved fruitless; we’re on the leading edge of the season, and most places aren’t open beyond prime meal times. We decided to tough it out, wait for supper.
And we found an interesting location for our meal. A diner, in downtown Gardiner. A real one, built to order just after the end of WW2 and brought on the back of a truck to its berth on a high grid of metal girders. We were lucky enough to have a short loan of the history, thanks to our waitress. Lots of text, lots of recipes (one for a traditional boiled dinner), a real explanation of the place.
