Ogallala, Nebraska, may not seem terribly sophisticated. And for good reason. It’s not.
But neither are most of us. Most of us don’t have the time, patience, or dollars to waste on trying to be sophisticated. What we want is comfort, with occasional indulgences.
That’s why I often prefer smaller cities and towns to the big, flashy ones. With a few seconds of googling or a recommendation from a local, one can find both the comfort and the indulgences we crave just about anywhere.
Thursday night in Ogallala, we did just that.
My husband, son, and I were on our way to see family in Wisconsin, so we left after work to shave three and a half hours off the next day’s longer drive, and we’d chosen Ogallala as our overnight stop. A fellow writer I’d recently met at a writing retreat had mentioned a brewpub there, which was a good enough reason for my two beer-appreciating menfolk to stop.
But before hitting the brewpub, we got dinner at a place called the Driftwood. Internet reviews said things like, “I can’t believe there’s a place like this in a place like this.” Plus, a photo of their chicken-fried steak had pride of place on their website. Good enough for me.
As we stepped from our vehicle in front of the Driftwood, we could smell cows. Ogallala was the end of the Texas cattle drive trial, according to a nearby historical marker, and cattle is still a big part of the area. As the bovine aroma wafted over me, I guessed the beef on the menu would be as fresh and as flavorful as it gets.
I was right. Chicken-fried steak is one of those occasional indulgences I mentioned. I seldom eat steak, but once every year or two, a good CFS is my guilty pleasure. And this one was stellar. So damned good, I ate the whole thing.
After dinner, we headed a block or two away to the brewpub I’d been told about. Second Chapter Brewing is a dream pub for book lovers and writers like me. Housed in a former library building, the pub’s walls are lined with bookcases of old books, tasting flights of beer arrive in vintage card catalogue drawers, and the brews have names like “Sci-Fi-PA” and “The Brewakening.” I had their apple cider seltzer called “The Trashy Romance.”
“Would you like some cinnamon sugar on the rim?” asked the bartender.
“Well, of course!” I replied, and she and I shared a laugh. What’s a trashy romance without a little sugar and spice, after all?
My menfolk selected their beers, then the three of us sat outside on the deck in the twilight, listening to cicadas singing, watching for the first stars, and talking about how finding these gem-like moments along the journey is what makes road trips—and life—worth the effort.
Wherever your path takes you during these waning days of summer, I hope it leads you to plenty of comfort and at least one or two small indulgences along the way.
[photos by Kelley J.P. Lindberg]
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