The bikes outside Unit 10, Hunter's Lodge, Delaware NJ
From: dje@mail.bellcore.com (Don Eilenberger) Date: Fri, 23 Jun 95 00:39:09 EDT Subject: BMW: Fandango part Deux (Episode 8 of way too many) LONG!!
The sign on Rt. 46 said:
| | | |
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| Hunter's Lodge |
| Motel |
| Restaurant |
| Bar |
| 2 miles! |
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We were both tired, both hungry, and after riding since 8:30AM, perhaps not as mentally awake as we should have been. We quickly came to the Hunter's Lodge - a collection of buildings on a large piece of property on Rt. 46 in Delaware NJ.
In the front was what appeared to be the restaurant and bar - with one car prominently parked in front. To the side of this was a small white frame house. Far to the rear of both of these structures was the actual motel - a more or less standard 1950's looking one, with cut-stone siding, and a row of doors and windows facing the road and parking. The motel unit itself was about 200 feet off the highway - so it did look as if it would be quiet.
We pulled into the driveway, and about 20 feet in, was a hand lettered freestanding sign (in a frame that looked like it was stolen from a real-estate listing) that said "MOTEL OFFICE" with an arrow pointing across a lawn at the back door of the restaurant/bar.
Since we were both beat - I told Frank I'd look into getting a room - never noticing that there wasn't a single vehicle of any sort in front of the motel. I knocked on the open screen door, and a large dog started barking - shortly afterwards followed by a hacking cough and the gent who owned both.
He opened the door - and I entered the office - which was also the kitchen for the restaurant, and I asked about a room. He seemed surprised that I asked, and finally said $40. I took the last of my cash out[1] (by now, I'd realized that VISA was gonna do NO good here..) and asked to register. He again seemed surprised, but digging around under some kitchen remnants - he found a registration pad.
He then said "You can take unit #2.." (remember PSYCHO??).. then reconsidered and said - "No - take Unit 10 - it's around back so no one can see your motorcycles.." and handed me the key.
I went back and retrieved Frank, and we drove down the long driveway to the actual motel. We drove around back and found Unit 10 - at this point I realized we were the ONLY ones at the establishment except the gentleman I'd met.
Looking around - after opening the door to the room, I was really surprised - the motel room appeared to be the original room from around 1955 - metal modern furniture of the era - in almost perfect condition. No air-conditioning, bathroom with tile, fixtures of the era - complete with a medicine chest with two bare fluorescent lamps lining it, two narrow double beds, and two 20 watt lights - one in the ceiling and one between the beds on the metal bedstand.
TWILIGHT ZONE[2] and PSYCHO - both seemed to have some relevance here. The motel by the now bypassed highway.. and I now glimpsed a large chain-link enclosure on one side of the property - at first I thought a tennis court, or pool enclosure - but no - it had deer in it, lots and lots of deer.
After unloading our stuff into the room, and looking a bit more at the outside (the light outside our room ONLY was burned out - thinking this could be a marking, or omen of some sort, I fought a bulb out of a light down the porch from us and put it in our outside lamp..) - I decided to ignore the mattress leaning up against the outside wall of the room next to us - and NOT look at what the stains on it were.. and see if Frank wanted to eat. He did.
We discussed our eating plans - at this point it was getting dark, and I don't think it would be wise for us to seek out a great restaurant, so I suggested we at least look at the bar/restaurant in front of the motel. The OPEN sign was blinking away - so in we went.
We found the gentleman I'd spoken to, sitting alone at the bar, nursing some sort of drink. He quickly moved to the back of the bar and asked what we'd have - I asked for a Miller Lite - he said "No Miller, but I do have Silver Bullet" - I agreed to the Coors. Frank had water.
I then asked about the chances of dining - the dining area was right off the bar - and all setup. Tables set, candles set, lights glowing, and EMPTY. Not a soul. The gent said "I only have a few hot-dogs" and then suggested that we visit the truck stop across the highway, down a piece.
I attempted to find out some history about the Hunter's Lodge - and best I could find out was - it was built in 1955 (I'd guessed right!), the bar was over 100 years old. He was the owner, and had tried to sell it, with no luck. He owned 40 acres of riverfront/highway property (1800 feet on both) in a place where nobody ever came anymore - the interstate had ruined his business. I noticed a photo of him and a woman when he was younger, and saw a sign that said "John and Kay Hunter Welcome You!" Kay was nowhere in evidence. I asked if there was a pay phone (there were no room phones) - and he said "No, but you can use the one in the kitchen if you reverse the charges".
When I called home from the kitchen phone - it was hard not to notice that the owner had apparently taken to sleeping in the bar/restaurant/office - a bed, well used, was made up in what had been the kitchen pantry.
Well - Frank and I took his advice, and walked over to the truck stop - to find a quantity of food that is simply unbelievable for $4.95 - and apparently regularly consumed by some of the people who were there. The waitress had just returned to work after quitting for a while - she was a true natural.. everyone was "Honey!" - The coffee cup was never allowed to get empty. She came around to make sure "Everything OK" at least 5 times, and engaged in conversation (bantering) with most of the people in the place - and she looked all of about 20 years old - a NATURAL (who did tell some of the regulars she was just doing it two nights a week - she went to college the other nights)[3].
The food was not gourmet - but was very edible - and it was impossible to finish the quantity they gave us - my dinner was a salad, soup, a complete chicken, potatoes, cole slaw - ALL in VAST quantities - $4.95, with all the coffee you wanted.
Filled to the brim, Frank and I waddled back to the motel - which looked even more eerie in the moonlight - with still only the one car in front of the restaurant/bar - which was now closed. I guess the owner went to bed in the pantry.
Frank and I wandered back to the room - I sat outside for a while with a cigar, a book and a beer. Frank went to bed. By 11PM[4] I was ready for bed, and quickly, after double- bolting the door - went to sleep.
We'll return in the next episode with dodging trucks on Rt. 46, some wonderful small river towns on the NJ side of the Delaware River, and a fabulous motorcycle road.
[1] Cash and me - don't last long together. Whoever invented the MAC card deserves a minor Nobel prize. Much as Frank would think he was running out of gas - I often in actuality do run out of cash - leading me to borrow a bit from Frank while we were riding, until we found the next MAC machine. I suspect this annoyed him as much as his fuel frenzy annoyed me.. but we adjust, and travel on.
[2] Twilight Zones - in Fandango the first - I felt at one time as if I had entered a Twilight Zone when we visited Fort Dix - to find ourselves wandering around miles and miles of deserted army base. Now in Fandango part Deux, we had wandered unintentionally into a deserted motel that apparently had been caught in a time-warp and just released.
Strange things seem to happen to me while riding FrankenCycle.. maybe it's time to think about a new name for it..
[3] Waitresses - a good waitress is not easy to find. It is (from friends who have been waiters and waitresses) not an easy job. It is the ultimate customer relations position, having to satisfy anyone who comes off the street, often under not ideal conditions (drunk chefs, bad food, too many customers, drunk customers, etc.).
So far on our trip, we'd found several excellent waitresses - - the one in Monticello NY - quickly realized that one of us was hard of hearing, and adjusted accordingly.
The truck-stop waitress was an expert at handling her customers - reassuring them the food would be out "In just a minute Honey!", finding out - and remembering special preferences "You're drinking diet Coke Honey?" All in all - the out of the way places that seem to survive do so mostly because they've found a good waitress. Reasonable food and a good waitress appear to be key to success in the rural restaurant business - and I think some big urban restaurant chains could learn from them.
[4] Night people and day people. I am an unashamed night person. I often work until the wee hours, and then sleep until 9AM or so.
As a night-person, I do not call people after 10PM, since I know there is a strange breed of people who insist on going to bed at dark, and getting up with the sun.
I don't resent the morning people (as they're known) - but do wish they would not (1) call me at 7AM (2) act virtuous. Luckily, my immediate family are all night people - my non- immediate family are not - and do #1 and #2 frequently.
For me to go willingly to bed at 11PM is an unusual event - but I find that when I'm on the road with the bike, 11PM starts to seem sorta late, and I'm anticipating an early start to the morning ride. Like I said, strange things happen when I'm out motorcycling...
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Don Eilenberger (dje@mail.bellcore.com)
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'79 R65 FrankenCycle - der Beemer
'87 535i BOHICA - der Bimmer
'75 25' Hunter - das Boot
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DOD#1177, BMW-CCA#104316, BMW-MOA#64000
President - New Jersey Shore BMW Riders
NJ-DOD-Cycles, Fossil Riders of NJ Inc.
"A glutton for clubs.."
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