“Denny’s Harley-Davidson Missouri”
I rode along Route 76, heading toward Historic Downtown Branson. If I kept going straight, the road would dead-end— then I’d turn left. After that, I’d definitely see that logo. That’s what they told me.
The route to the shop was simple. All I had to do was aim my partner toward the familiar logo. My heart was pounding. The shop wasn’t going anywhere, but I still couldn’t calm down— like an excited bull.
The only way to calm this excitement was…
…to hurry up and get to the shop.
Soon, I arrived. I looked around the store to my heart’s content, even got a little bonus gift, and finished today’s main event. Total spent: $176.82 (boots, a patch, and a long‑sleeve shirt). That day’s exchange rate was ¥113.4.
Feeling satisfied after the big purchase, I headed next to:
“BASS PRO SHOPS – BRANSON, MO”
A massive outdoor store selling everything from camping gear to fishing equipment and even firearms.
I joked to myself that I came here to buy a tiny handheld item that could “blow someone away in one shot”— just kidding, of course.
I remembered a past trip to Arizona where a friend let me try various shooting experiences. The shockwave had been intense— a reminder of how powerful and dangerous such tools are. It made me realize I could never point something like that at another person.
Inside the store, there were taxidermy animals, shirts, boots, sunglasses, fishing gear, camping gear, canoes— all arranged beautifully. The fishing and camping sections were especially overwhelming. It felt like there was nothing you couldn’t find here.
The firearms section had a completely different atmosphere— quiet, serious. People examined items carefully. I could sense the presence of real hunters.
After wandering the huge store, I decided it was time to head out.
(Where to?)
Today, I planned to eat at a restaurant a bit farther away:
“LAMBERT’S CAFE – HOME OF THROWED ROLLS”
I rode north on Route 65 toward Fremont Hills. There weren’t many tall buildings there, so I figured I’d spot the place easily.
Along the way, I enjoyed the scenery of the rural Midwest.
When I arrived, several groups were waiting outside, but I was seated quickly. I ordered a drink first— and what arrived was a huge cup, like something from a festival.
The server said, “If you want a refill, just let me know!”
I thanked her, and before I knew it, I had finished the giant drink. She noticed immediately and brought another one.
After looking over the menu, I chose Beef Liver and Onions. A sizzling hot plate arrived, and the meat was tender, juicy, and perfectly prepared.
As I was enjoying my meal, the restaurant suddenly grew lively. Whistles echoed. Something was flying through the air.
Bread.
Dinner rolls were being thrown across the restaurant. Customers raised their hands, and the staff tossed rolls to them with perfect aim.
I raised my hand too— a roll flew straight to me. It was hilarious and fun. I dipped the bread in leftover sauce— delicious.
The idea was bold and free‑spirited. It felt very American.
“Don’t think too hard—just enjoy it!”
This country fits that phrase perfectly.
Families were coming in one after another. (…Families, huh…)
I asked my server for the check and handed her a generous tip.
Outside, the air felt refreshing. My partner stood quietly, slim but full of presence.
“So… what now, traveler who drifts from town to town?”
Yeah… I think I’ve had enough neon lights. Tomorrow, I’ll head to Kansas.
Time to return to the motel and get ready to check out.
To be continued…
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