Last weekend my wife and I spent the night in Lansboro Minnesota. My wife heard that it was a cute little town, with a number of cute shops. We had purchased tickets for a play at the local theatre. The show for the evening was “Steel Magnolias.” We plotted out where we were going to eat. We found a place that had a picture of a barbeque burger on the ad. That is exactly what my wife was craving. The Old Barn Resort was in the town of Preston, about 12 minutes from Lanesboro.

With help and guidance from Siri, we set out for dinner. It wasn’t long before we were on dirt roads. Some of the gravel road was smooth, other parts were rough. My Kia Soul managed the miles. While it looked like we were way off course the turns looked to be correct. The restaurant was also a golf course. We went from corn fields to dense foliage. There was nothing that resembled a golf course.

And then there was. With amazement we followed the gravel road, leading us to the club house. There was one sign that gave us pause.”Bridge closed.” It was the end of the road.  There were no instructions as to where to go. We back tracked our route, reminded of every bone jarring divot. There were several rabbit trails we drove down, and had to retrace our steps.  Siri was in and out of service. At times we felt abandoned and orphaned.

 There were trees and corn,  nothing that resembled a golf course, until we were driving along a golfing green. We followed the road until we came to the parking area. At the far side of the lot was a blocked thoroughfare the other side of the bridge we could not pass. 

All told we went six to nine dusty miles out of our way for dinner, but my wife, who is kind of a burger aficionado proclaimed the BarBQue burger exceptional.

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