Minturn Bar

This small place all alone on the side of the road intrigued me. It REALLY looks like a classic side-​of-​the-​highway country bar and it is! Easy to get to — less than a minute off the highway 99 exit. In an old beige looking box-​like building with a dirt parking lot. The only «sign» was some plastic letters on the upper edge, one slightly atilt. Hand written signage at the front door…
The place is actually called Brad’s Place — Minturn Bar, And Brad the owner was bartending, and there were no other employees during my singular visit. No surprise, though. It was on a weekday at 4 PM. Only one other customer at the bar when I arrived, and five others were added by my departure. Brad is very friendly, and talkative. He perhaps pried a little more than I would have preferred. Obviously I was not one of his more typical customers who seem to all be nearby locals. Where was I from? What am I doing here? Those kind of questions. But it was a genuine interest on his part, and he was quite likable. Eventually talk came around to one guy’s truck engine replacement, the out of control almond husk fire nearby, Oregon elk hunting, etc. as other customers appeared.
There are no beers on tap. Brad pointed out his selection — about a dozen bottles on a shelf display. All Bud/​Coors/​Millers etc except for a Corona and I think one or two others. I ordered a Bud Classic — ice cold bottle and only $ 2. A very good deal. Cash only sign well displayed
I talked with other customers. Its that kind of place. A friendly atmosphere for local camaraderie. I saw there was a few magnum bottles of wine at far left but that’s it. No distilled liquors that I could see.
I commented to Brad that his hours were unusual. The hand written sign outside the front door stated it closed at 8 every weekday, and was totally closed on Saturdays and Sundays. But Brad emphatically said he was open on weekends — «that was just an old sign».
I was very hungry so I partook of the only culinary offerings — a small bag of peanuts for 50 cents, and a bag of one of the five potato chip offerings for a dollar.
The entire left half of the singular room was dark until I was leaving, when the beginnings of a set up for a band began. This may very well be a hopping place in the evenings. I just don’t know.
All in all it was fun. I will consider another stop over on one of my drives down 99. Yet, as Robert Frost wrote in his poem «The Road Not Taken», I suspect it will really be
«Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.»

Unfortunately, for me, this place is never open when I pass by. It’s a total dive and, quite literally, in the middle of no-​where. The fact that they are indeed open, but never when I’m there, keeps the mystery of amazement for me.
I’ll be back… I’ll be back…