My friend’s sister owns a little grocery store/lunch counter/gas station in Mellwood, AR. It’s isolated as hell - the only folks in that part of the country are locals, most have an account at the store and only pay once a year when the harvest comes through. The food is just greasy diner food, but it’s good.
I do a lot of bikepacking in rural areas and love stopping at these kinds of stores. You generally get real food to eat right away (v. packaged crap from a gas station) plus other stuff to take with you and you get to chat with locals and keep money in the local economy. During a trip in rural VT last summer, I stopped at a store that barely looked like it had electricity, but when I went in, it was exactly this and to boot had a 4 door cooler stocked full of local IPA. It was like the angels started singing! So Vermont.
If you find yourself in North Shrewsbury, Vt — and you really should — visit Pierce's store. It matches your description pretty closely. We bought some sandwiches and a wonderful chocolate chip cookie there, and had lunch on Shrewsbury peak. That was one of my best days.
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.
The dynamics of what makes these stores work I find really interesting and I think it's often counterintuitive to many. On the surface it's basically a transportation/convenience thing, but underneath the surface I think there is a heavy cultural aspect to it. First on the transportation/convenience aspect, in places where people pretty much drive everywhere (mostly suburbia but also small cities like Annapolis), people generally eschew these kinds of places because if you are getting in a car, the difference between a 5 minute drive to a place with a limited selection and a 20 minute drive to a full service place (ie grocery store) is negligible so people do that and "stock up". That's why we have no grocery store in downtown Annapolis anymore because it would be a small format with limited selection and people would rather just drive to Whole Foods etc just outside the city, so limited selection places (either high brow or low brow) dont' make it. Small format stores (bodegas or tiny Trader Joes) make it in very urban places where people don't drive much or there is good local transit because it is the most convenient to frequent often. My daughter lived in Brookline MA and could walk or take the T to the local TJs that was only like 4000 sq ft and was packed 24/7. This only works because people mostly don't drive there.
But the second/cultural aspect I think changes this equation. When people know the owner and the experience is personal and not just transactional, people are much more likely to frequent this kind of place. No doubt this is a more rural stereotype/generalization, but I really think it's true. Sure people can always drive a little longer to a full service grocery store - and they probably still do to some extent - but they are willing to patronize the country store for reasons that go beyond the convenience and economics of the business.
I rode across the country on a bicycle—I set no speed records, and it took more than 10 trips. Many of my most vivid memories are attached to convenience stores. Perhaps my favorite came in Des Allemandes, LA, a name that means “Belongs to the Germans,” in French. This non-chain convenience store had three small tables one of which was occupied by a gentleman speaking Cajun French (definitely not Parisian). Apparently, all the Allemands had moved on. During my whole ride across Louisiana, I saw exactly 4-foot alligator. I don't know what I did wrong.
Another vivid memory came on Jan 2. I was in rice paddy country, absolutely devoid of trees and the wind was ferocious. It looked like a grim night ahead. I found a steel building and thought there might be something of a windbreak on its lee side. There was a door, and I tried it. Turns out it was a clubhouse, and they had had their New Year's Eve party 24 hours previous, and no one had cleaned up. Flush toilet and plenty of snacks.
Finally, following route 90 through New Orleans I came at the exact spot where Rte 11 begins northbound. Like Addison, I have done many miles on Rte 11, and my father's front door house sat on Rte 11 for 20 years in Scranton, PA.
All you need to do to REALLLY appreciate a convenience store is to be really hungry or thirsty. When my friend and I went hiking looking for civil war forts surrounding Washington DC, our nickname for convenience stores was “civilization as we know it." "Hunger ist die beste Soße."
Can we relax? Can we accept anything less than a peak experience? Yes! One, two, three, RELAX!!!!
BTW, Keurig machines make awful tea. You can do better with a microwave in a convenience store.
This describes the vibrant heart of every small Vermont village. I loved reading it!
My friend’s sister owns a little grocery store/lunch counter/gas station in Mellwood, AR. It’s isolated as hell - the only folks in that part of the country are locals, most have an account at the store and only pay once a year when the harvest comes through. The food is just greasy diner food, but it’s good.
It *still* uses analog gas pumps!
I do a lot of bikepacking in rural areas and love stopping at these kinds of stores. You generally get real food to eat right away (v. packaged crap from a gas station) plus other stuff to take with you and you get to chat with locals and keep money in the local economy. During a trip in rural VT last summer, I stopped at a store that barely looked like it had electricity, but when I went in, it was exactly this and to boot had a 4 door cooler stocked full of local IPA. It was like the angels started singing! So Vermont.
If you find yourself in North Shrewsbury, Vt — and you really should — visit Pierce's store. It matches your description pretty closely. We bought some sandwiches and a wonderful chocolate chip cookie there, and had lunch on Shrewsbury peak. That was one of my best days.
Cool. This was Floyds General Store in Randolph VT.
We just walked down the hill about .7 of a mile to the Clarence Deli to buy some heavy cream.
That's exactly the kind of place you're talking about.
Really good sandwich menu.
Check it out: 10633 Main Street 14031
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.
The dynamics of what makes these stores work I find really interesting and I think it's often counterintuitive to many. On the surface it's basically a transportation/convenience thing, but underneath the surface I think there is a heavy cultural aspect to it. First on the transportation/convenience aspect, in places where people pretty much drive everywhere (mostly suburbia but also small cities like Annapolis), people generally eschew these kinds of places because if you are getting in a car, the difference between a 5 minute drive to a place with a limited selection and a 20 minute drive to a full service place (ie grocery store) is negligible so people do that and "stock up". That's why we have no grocery store in downtown Annapolis anymore because it would be a small format with limited selection and people would rather just drive to Whole Foods etc just outside the city, so limited selection places (either high brow or low brow) dont' make it. Small format stores (bodegas or tiny Trader Joes) make it in very urban places where people don't drive much or there is good local transit because it is the most convenient to frequent often. My daughter lived in Brookline MA and could walk or take the T to the local TJs that was only like 4000 sq ft and was packed 24/7. This only works because people mostly don't drive there.
But the second/cultural aspect I think changes this equation. When people know the owner and the experience is personal and not just transactional, people are much more likely to frequent this kind of place. No doubt this is a more rural stereotype/generalization, but I really think it's true. Sure people can always drive a little longer to a full service grocery store - and they probably still do to some extent - but they are willing to patronize the country store for reasons that go beyond the convenience and economics of the business.
it's not that NYC has the only "corner store" its just that in most places, you cant walk to them.
Wilson General Store is a nice one in Clear Spring, MD, near where I grew up:
http://www.mountaindiscoveries.com/images/ss2015/wilsonstore.pdf
I rode across the country on a bicycle—I set no speed records, and it took more than 10 trips. Many of my most vivid memories are attached to convenience stores. Perhaps my favorite came in Des Allemandes, LA, a name that means “Belongs to the Germans,” in French. This non-chain convenience store had three small tables one of which was occupied by a gentleman speaking Cajun French (definitely not Parisian). Apparently, all the Allemands had moved on. During my whole ride across Louisiana, I saw exactly 4-foot alligator. I don't know what I did wrong.
Another vivid memory came on Jan 2. I was in rice paddy country, absolutely devoid of trees and the wind was ferocious. It looked like a grim night ahead. I found a steel building and thought there might be something of a windbreak on its lee side. There was a door, and I tried it. Turns out it was a clubhouse, and they had had their New Year's Eve party 24 hours previous, and no one had cleaned up. Flush toilet and plenty of snacks.
Finally, following route 90 through New Orleans I came at the exact spot where Rte 11 begins northbound. Like Addison, I have done many miles on Rte 11, and my father's front door house sat on Rte 11 for 20 years in Scranton, PA.
All you need to do to REALLLY appreciate a convenience store is to be really hungry or thirsty. When my friend and I went hiking looking for civil war forts surrounding Washington DC, our nickname for convenience stores was “civilization as we know it." "Hunger ist die beste Soße."