Hominy, Oklahoma Rest Stop
Here we are at Hominy, the crossroads of the world. Yeah, right. Actually, you would think that it was with the number of cycles that drove by while we filled up on gas and emptied bladders.
A couple of guys showed up with Beemers. Heated seats, hand grips, and electric up and down adjustable windscreens. Only $15,000 or so a pop. Gee, my cold butt and hands don't feel THAT bad.
(Oh, by the way, that really ISN'T my beer gut hanging down like that. I was actually sheltering a family of refugee midgets under my shirt. They escape in case of emergency on a fire pole...put I won't get into that.)
Hominy, Hominy, Hominy
Here we have Mark, Angela resting in Mo's Lazyboy Yamaha, and myself and Sally. Check my cool Yard Dog Press T-shirt! (Suitable for sheltering...)
Hernandez--Mexican T-Bones!
Here are the bikes parked around the side of Hernandez in Pawhuska. Every time we go there it seems to be Sunday, and the guys in the kitchen seem to be cleaning out the cooler. Also, it means that we can't drink any beer because of the local blue laws. I keep promising myself that I will order something, anything other than the T-bone, but I keep coming back. As Mark said: "You can get fajitas anywhere, but you can't find a T-bone like this in Owasso."
And one of these days we will train the cooks that rare really means rare. Show the meat a picture of a flame and throw it on a plate!
(Every time I order I hear something about a crazy, raw-meat eating, gringo.)
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