On August 17, 2016 we drove for about 4 hours from Queens, NY to Greenfield, MA. It was supposed to be a shorter drive but they are working on a lot of spots on I-91. We were picking up two of my grandchildren who live with my daughter and her partner all the way at the end of Vermont. My wife, who is the better driver, did an excellent job getting us there almost as planned, an hour before they were meeting us. I have an excellent bladder, but I still need to pee once in a while, so I suggested that we stop in this pub that I noticed while we were looking for parking. She didn’t mind, so we ended up at Smitty’s Pub. We had previously agreed that I will drive back, so I decided not to have any hard liquor. I did get a pint of some local brew that was not bad at all. On my way back from the john, I saw this truism on the wall: Alcohol – Because no great story ever started with someone eating a salad. Being the kind of guy that I am, I decided right away that I will overturn that concept.

The full story may be read here:

My Unpublished Novel


About The Llime

I am a singer/songwriter/author
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