We’re waiting at an intesection.  There’s a train on the tracks.  So here’s Main Street in Ronceverte, West Virginia.

It looks pretty abandoned.  There’s an old building with “The Shack” scratched into the side of the building, like the Jolly Green Giant took his fingernail and just dug into the soft wood.

"The Shack" on Main Street in Ronceverte, West Virginia.

We see a field and a picnic table next to a building.  We decide it’s time to eat our leftover Thai food and have some lunch.  I have to pee.  I walk down the street along the train tracks to the back side of some business and see a sign for “The Sportsman Taverns.”  I walk in, it’s dark and there are a probably 15 people already at the counter.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

“Sure, it’s in the back to the right past the pool tables.”

I feel uncomfortable.  No one there knows me and it’s obvious.  I’m glad to get in, do my business and get out.

While we’re eating lunch, I notice this run down building across the way on Main Street.  It’s in disarray, halfway between life and death with some incomplete construction going on.  I see a few cats running around.  I’m pretty sure the cats won’t talk to me.

A house on Main Street in Ronceverte, West Virginia.

I want to know what’s inside, but I’m intimidated to go up and talk to the people I assume live there.  I do that a lot on these Main Streets, look at houses and wonder what’s inside, wanting to talk to everyone about everything.  I turn back to lunch and look over the railroad tracks.  This place is run down, but it sure is beautiful.