This Memorial Day Holiday we decided to take the Highway 50 challenge and become a survivor of the “loneliest highway.” This adventure includes five cities, and the adventures in between.

We got a late start Friday, as Lisa and I waited for Bridget to get off work. But, regardless, we left that afternoon a bit past 5pm. We cruised past Fernley and Fallon to get to our first stop.
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From Nevada Travels, posted by Bridget Weaver Walden on 5/30/2011 (Showing 4 of 29 items)

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Middlegate –Is this a town? Or is this just a bar/gas station/motel where some RVs stop for the night.  We took a quick right off Highway 50 to see what looked to be a run-down bar in the middle of nowhere. Well… apparently nowhere was having a busy night.

Imagine yourself surrounded by a dark stained atmosphere with dollar bills plastered against the ceiling. The walls decorated with “Wanted” signs, such of that as a warning to “shady” women of Tombstone who no longer had permissions to walk on the sunny side of the street due to their promiscuity. Either way, an order of a veggie burger and fries was a good choice.

What was more interesting is the stories coming through the bar. One patron muttered that he lived there for his entire life; the old owner who is a bit slow, but fills a stiff whiskey coke;  and his granddaughter who pulls everything together.

Austin  – We rolled into the Lincoln Motel in Austin a bit after 9pm. Here, we grabbed our official Highway 50 guides. Bridget was also a bit impressed by the parallelism she pulled from the book she just read, The Motel Life. We settled and then walked a block to get a feel for the town. Austin has less than 200 fulltime residents.

We then stopped at the Silver State Saloon, which by luck, was open. Bridget and I ordered a Jack and Coke, and Lisa, in her Jersey Shore ways, wanted  Makers Mark and Coke. The bartender afterwards didn’t know how much she should charge us, which Bridget and I laughed at. After a five minute conversation of trying to figure out what the cost difference should be, the bartender asked Lisa if she could charge her $4.50, a dollar more than our jacks. Lisa said, “you betchya.”

Come to find out, the owner of the bar only opens for special events. The bar, which seems to be the nicest in town, only opens five days a year, which explains why they didn’t know how much to charge us. After the bar was cleared with the exception of us, the bartender was friendly enough to come sit down and chat with us.  After a few minutes of conversation, Lisa discovered that they knew the same people in Round Mountain. Small state, right?

We also were told a local Native American story. Recently, a few teenagers visited an Indian burial ground, and stole some items. As the story goes, one of the kids came down with an un-diagnosable disease. Within a few days of possible death and losing his sight, a Native American lady, unknown to the hospital and the boy, came and advised him to return the possessions. The boy listened and his friends returned the items, and within a few days, the boy miraculously improved.