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All the nomads I know eschew popular national franchises and park exclusively at the true nexus of any small community, the mercantile or saloon or whatever they call it in that small town. These places exist where you can't imagine there would be enough oxygen for them to survive. One example is the mercantile at former ghost town Atlantic City, Wyoming, where South Pass breaches the Continental Divide. You have to go off the highway and down gravel to find it, but the nomads have found it. It's waiting there for you too.

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