Ouch. Been there. Done that. Sometimes they'd alter hours slightly, etc. I got into the habit of calling ahead. Just to be certain. Boxcab E50
Ex - been there! 81 miles kinda stretches local, though, don't it? I can sympathize, though, having lived for 2-1/2 years at Fort Polk, Louisiana. You wanna talk about nowhere! Steve - jazz it up some! Y'know, a 1 hour walk, uphill, in a snowstorm, carrying your shoes so they didn't get wet and shrink. Didn't your dad ever explain those storytelling rules to you?
I feel your pains. I drove all the way to Promontory Point which at the time was a 2 1/2 drive each way. I got out there and found I had forgotten my wallet. All I had was a check book and at the time they only accepted cash. I went so far as to beg that they let me in and to begging for cash from other visitors. I was escorted to my car by a park ranger and told to either pay up or get lost. Dejected I left, I have not been back since, Perhaps someday armed with cash i will return.
ROTHLMAO! And there had to be a 60-mile per hour gale blowing in your face--both ways. Thanks, guy, I needed that!
"Local" for me is 125 miles.... One way. You have my sympathies. Anyone who has been stationed at Polk, (spent most of my time there on the north fort), has experienced nowhere. Ugh. Boxcab E50
True story: In 1972 I was building my first house in the Boston area. My brother-in-law Mike lived in Houlton, Maine, and had a business clearing forests for Interstate 95. He cut and brought all the lumber I needed to a Houlton sawmill, which cut them and kiln-dried them for something like $0.03 per board-foot. I got a call on a Monday, "He-ah, your lumbah's ready now." I told him I'd be up that Friday afternoon. I borrowed an old 24-foot flatbed from my stepfather, and drove the 250 or so miles up to Houlton, averaging about 3 miles a gallon. No one there. Yard locked. Went over to Mike's. "Ah, Jake's kinda notorious for just taking off." We went back the next morning. No Jake. So we broke into his yard, and loaded my lumber onto the truck. The police came by--no sweat, they knew Mike. I left a blank check with Mike for the time Jake returned. Of course, it was 97 degrees in sweltering humidity the whole trip, with no A/C in the truck--NOT! Well, then, it was -40 degrees, with the windshield frosting on the inside--also NOT! It was a beautiful 500-mile ride with great lumber at $0.03 per board-foot. In return, a few years later I designed and built Mike's house up there in the wilds of Maine. Same sawmill. Same kind of break-in.
That bites! Still, it's closer than several thousand miles to a decent hobby store! Huh? Have you come down, yet?
Any one of you folks ever go to the wrong airport and miss a vacation flight after you wife (first) flew there two days ahead of you?
No way I could top any of these problems guys! What a bummer! I had three LHS on my way to work for the last 10 years I worked, and now I have an excellent one just a few blocks from the house. It might pay to use phone cards to call ahead?
