Zach's Burger Bus

So after spending a wicked few days celebrating Canada Day, reuniting with the TransCanada cyclists, and listening to music in Winnipeg, I continued my journey eastward towards Falcon Lake. I planned to get an early start on things, since the ride was about 145km and it was supposed to be scorching hot, but my 7:00am alarm coincided with a violent clap of thunder and thus I retired to sleep for another hour or so. By 10:00am the storm had passed, leaving nothing but a few puddles on the road and blues skies in its wake. So I ventured out of Osborne village, saying farewell to Jocelyn and her Mom, hoping that our paths may cross again.

The wind was still against me, which really pissed me off. I thought the prevailing winds were supposed to be from west to east! The past four riding days the wind had been slapping me in the face, making life altogether a bit uncomfortable and tiresome. Later, someone told me that bad weather comes from the east on the prairies, which makes sense considering all the wretched weather I've been riding through. So I pedaled on, grumbling to myself in the face of adversity. I tried to take a water break in the shade on the side of the road, but I couldn't relax with the constant buzz of mosquitoes and helicopter-like hum of horseflies, so I just kept biking. The weather was really hot and muggy, but the constant breeze from the wind in my face kept me cool.

Somewhere before Hadashville, I pulled into a rest stop to relax on a picnic table for a bit and get out of the blazing sun. When I went to go on my way, I noticed that the sun had disappeared and storm clouds were moving in fast. Blue sky was quickly being replaced with white clouds which were being hidden by dark and ominous grey clouds, meaning that I had about 20 minutes to find somewhere safe to wait out the thunderstorm.

I walked up to Zach's Burger Bus, an old school bus converted into a mobile fast food outlet, and asked (slightly concernedly) how far to the nearest town. The woman behind the counter said it was quite a ways yet, and that there wasn't really much at the town. She saw the look of disappointment on my face, and kindly offered to give me a ride to the nearest campground, which I accepted after glancing at the sky and seeing that the dark clouds closing in fast.

So I loaded my bike into the back of Bev's pickup truck (her husband Wayne drove the burger bus) and we headed for town. Near Hadashville I think. Once we got close to civilization and the heavy drops of rain started to smash down on the car windshield, Bev offered to have me sleep in their shed instead of the campground. I gladly accepted this opportunity, and soon found myself curled up in a pile of sleeping bags on the floor of a tidy storage shed. Freezers on one side, cardboard boxes of supplies shelved on the other, and a pile of laundry in the corner. Before crashing out for the night, Wayne cooked us up a couple of bison burgers for dinner. We talked easily about human nature, people who were close to us, and I told them about my bike adventure so far. I learned that the business was named after their grandson, who's name is Zach. While a roaring storm raged on outside, I slept soundly to the hummmmmmm of the freezers in the air conditioned shed (despite the rotten weather, it's still really hot out).

I woke early the next morning, only to find out that I was forbidden to ride on the wet road alongside the long weekend traffic. "You can either stay here, or make milkshakes and scoop ice cream on the bus and earn a few dollars" Bev said to me as I lie in bed, still half awake at 7:15am. A smile formed in my mouth and spread slowly across my cheeks: I've always secretly wanted to work as an ice cream girl! And now, at age 25, my wish was finally being granted.

I had a blast. It was totally awesome: the three of us running around inside the slender bus in a state of organized chaos. I think I've found my calling in life. I fried up french fries, mixed up milkshakes, and scooped mountains of ice cream into waffle cones. "That's not enough. These folks are used to Wayne's scoops" and so I had to plop more on, turning my standard one scoop into a ginormous "Wayne sized cone" .I got a kick out of the look on kids faces when they were handed a weighty cone of ice cream and you could see they were strategising in their little heads how to tackle the mammoth thing.

I thoroughly enjoyed talking to and working with Bev and Wayne. Their hearts were in it; they weren't out there to get rich or make a fortune selling hot dogs and hamburgers and various frozen treats. They were doing it because they liked to do it. "I just love seeing the return customers. You know, the cottagers that come here week after week. It's great to see these people, and hear what they've been up to."They liked the people and they loved see folks enjoying their food (and how could you not enjoy a Zach Burger? Two 1/4 pound patties, bacon, onions, the works!) They sold fresh home cooked food at prices that were affordable for the entire family. And the ice cream portions were ridiculous.

And so, a word to the wise: if you're on the TransCanada and see the sign for Zach's Burger Bus near Hadashville, make it a stop. You will not be disappointed! Give Bev and Wayne a high-five from me; a lone wayward cyclist who was rescued from a storm by the hearts of these two generous individuals.