My dearest friend since second grade, Golf and I had discussed canoeing the Mississippi practically forever. How we came to this was a bit of a tale in its own right. Coming up, we had a couple of creeks. No matter which you picked; Flint Creek, or Spring Creek, after navigating through golf course, forests and backyards, you would eventually emerge, to the deep channels of the mighty Fox River.
The end of every journey was Johnson’s Dead End, a tavern situated on the edge of the river with many amenities. It was more than just a handy spot for disembarking. Most every stopover included an Old Style Lager and on a good day, a couple of pickled eggs from the big jar behind the bar. While a pinball game or 3 were sometimes in the cards, it was the conversation that followed these passages that was universal.
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