Sturgis

 Many years ago Susan and I decided to visit Deadwood, where Wild Bill Hickok had been murdered. I intended to buy a Wild Bill T-shirt. 

We drove into the rustic western town in a suitable Ford 3/4 ton pickup and found no souvenir shirts and no bathrooms. The three of us looked around. In those days we had a pet wolf, and he rode on the bench seat between us. 

It turned out that the entire town had a plumbing problem, and everyone had to hold it for a day or two while something got fixed.

Soon we were leaving town, heading for the nearest place that had toilets, a hamlet called Sturgis. I think the drive took about an hour, and we stopped at the first service station we came to and ran inside. The station was like something from the Twilight Zone. Half  the main room was dedicated to the sale of leather jackets. This gas station had stocked hundreds of black jackets. It was eerie. We did our business fast, tried to look friendly and left as quickly as we could.