After nine miles of pedaling, you've made it. Sit outside on the sunny patio or dive inside the cool, dark circus-like ambience of the dining room. Wall to ceiling, the place is riddled with old snapshots, posters, memorabilia and Christmas lights strung haphazardly in the middle of July. If, at first, there is a wait — then go next door and shoot pool until your seat opens. The tavern deals only in cash, but luckily there is an ATM conveniently located in the back by the bathrooms. Belly up to the bar as Gonzo journalist and Woody Creature (as the natives are called), Hunter S. Thompson used to do — or slink into a booth with your pals.
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