guns, souvenirs, antiques.

you know you’ve arrived into “grown-up-dom” when you are driving down an interstate with farm houses, cattle and windmills on the left and a big shed like store with “guns, souvenirs, antiques” spray painted in red across the roof.

or maybe you’ve just arrived somewhere between harrisonburg and staunton (pronounced STAN-tin).

it’s only in places like that where businesses promise things like “EVERYTHING electrical” or you can eat sushi at an all you can eat chinese buffet or the locals refer to HOV lanes as “zippy” lanes.

but it’s also in places like that where you fall in love with the independently run student radio station or where you meet your landlord for the first time and he says, “i saw you on the TEE-vee this morning!” or the woman at the clinque counter talks you up to the mom pushing a stroller waiting behind you… since she thinks the mom will be up early to see you report or where a blowpop from your “crush reporter” makes you smile.


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