Lunch at a General Store—A Letter from Marisa
This time last week, Florian and I were sitting at Poston’s General Store in Stewart, OH, sipping coffee and munching on breakfast sandwiches. A stray cat the locals called Bill kept us company as we amused ourselves by imagining what kind of creatures might emerge from the dry cornfield across the road if this were the set of a horror film.
After all, it’s almost Halloween.
It was our second visit in as many days. Lunch the day before had been a foot-long hot dog, loaded with all the fixings for just $2.25.
The shelves of the store were lined with the usual gas station fare—chips, soda, and beer—but also local goods, like tallow moisturizer and wine made from the region’s signature pawpaw fruit. Yes, I picked some up.
Behind the counter were friendly faces who’d lived in the area all their lives. The staff was quick with conversation and careful in the way they assembled each hot dog.
Out front, a wall calendar advertised events at the local community center. We considered attending the Thursday night square dance, but decided our two left feet were better suited for motorcycle boots. We rode to a local fishing hole instead.
As we lingered, we watched all kinds of people come and go: farmers grabbing a meal, teenagers looking for a soda, and mothers on errands. Some stopped for fuel, others for food, and a few just for a six-pack to take fishing.
Everyone who passed offered us a nod or a hello. We didn’t want to leave this hub of small-town life.
As motorcyclists, we often seek out spots like Poston’s General Store that are full of personality, serving local character alongside coffee and snacks. They are community anchors, especially in places untouched by chain restaurants and big-box megamarkets. And yet, these stores are vanishing.
The decline has accelerated since the COVID pandemic. Local economies are struggling, and stores that have supported their communities for generations have been forced to close.
A few years ago, while riding through Vermont, we pulled up to more than one shuttered general store with a sign on the door that read something along the lines of “Thanks for 55 great years of business.” Few things are sadder than finding a community pillar gone dark.
General stores are the heart of small-town America. They preserve culture, support local economies, and give travelers like us a reason to pause and connect to the places we pass through.
So, the next time you ride, I urge you to skip the chains. Seek out a general store instead. Order a hot dog, pick up local trinkets, and spend a few minutes with the folks who call the town home.
You’ll be glad you did.
Travel often,
Marisa McInturff
Managing Editor