I dunno where Boris is walkin’ about these days but it is not on the Planet Earth.

When we got to Dexter to begin our 10-mile Sunday morning walkabout, we (or at least the GG) had a certain expectation about breakfast. Yeah, we’ll just go to that red-white-and-blue God Bless America resty-raunt. The Lighthouse or something? We’ve been there before. It was always fine. Regular breakfast food. Eggs over easy, hash browns, and toast. You know the drill. Say what? It is CLOSED? When’s the last time we ate there? I could swear it was last fall. And why did we not notice that it was closed a few weeks ago when we walked a different section of the Border2Border trail that ended up in Dexter?

I dunno. I always had the feeling that the place changed hands rather frequently. I dunno why. It was always a decent restaurant. I never got sick from the food there. About the only complaint I might make is that the restroom feels like a refrigerator but I’m accustomed to that from Kenny’s Pitchen so it kind of feels like home. And that makes me miss when I would walk into KP with The Comm and then Radical Betty would arrive and, at some point, Cam would announce that she was going to the refrigerator.

Anyway… I didn’t really want a big eggy, meaty breakfast that morning but I know better than to mess with the GG’s need for one (most of the time). The Dexter Bakery was open and they had loverly Danishes and croissants and what have you and something like that would’ve been fine for me. Walking breakfast. Not the GG. Heeeee had the Gall to ask if there was a BREAKFAST RESTAURANT anywhere near! No worries though. The gal behind the counter enthusiastically directed us across the street to the Chuckwagon.

We have walked past this cute little place more than a few times but I didn’t know they served breakfast. Actually, it’s mainly a pickup place. They do not have a huge breakfast menu but they had what the GG wanted and I (who wanted less food) found something completely satisfying. This is not a sit-down restaurant, except in the summer when it’s warm enough to sit outside. We shared the few seats in the indoor space with a couple who looked like they were having a more difficult time with power outages than we were (i.e., no water) and everyone there talked incessantly the whole time.

Anyway, that is Boris up there. Oh, I am sure that his name is not Boris. When you eat breakfast inside the Chuckwagon, you eat underneath this loverly longhorn bull. He is mounted on the wall because in his cantankerous old age, he learned how to use his horns to open up a gate. When his owner (who also owns the restaurant) got home to find a note on her door alerting her that Boris and his girls were out on a walkabout, she apparently decided he would be better off on a restaurant wall.

I think we will return to the Chuckwagon Restaurant!

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