Gas Stations on North Dakota Highway #2

Someday I would love to be a part-time trucker.

There is just something about shifting gears that I really enjoy. I am also fascinated with air brakes. Plus, don't even get me started with those chrome mud flaps with the lounging lady.

Unfortunately, I am not a trucker.

However, I do feel like I got a good handle on the best gas stations in northern North Dakota.

If you are ever planning a trip from Williston to Grand Forks and you are starting to panic because you don't feel like you will make the best gas station stops, just get a hold of me.

I am going to skip all of the spectacular specifics of the great stops on North Dakota Highway 2 and go straight to its best gas station.

That, of course, would the the Grand Forks StaMart.

Need Popcorn Chicken?
They got it.

Need a belt buckle?
Yup.

Need some Black Hills Gold?
Strangely enough, I don't think they have it. But if you are looking for a 3-pound bag of Australian Black Licorice and a dark purple t-shirt with a howling wolf with glittery clouds, you don't have to look any further.

In the past few months, Betsy and I have enjoyed looking at "baby stuff" at Target, a store called Wizard of Kids, and I have even peeked into Baby Gap. During this whole time I have never considered looking at StaMart.

Well, this past weekend I learned that I have made a big mistake not checking out my favorite convenience store.

On Saturday night, Betsy's college friends and parents hosted a "Miracle on Ice" Baby Bash. Baby Debertin started its journey in a test tube and then was quickly placed into a big-ass freezer in Fargo. During its deep freeze, it also had to journey to some unknown destination (most likely Duluth) during the Fargo Flood of '09. The embryo did eventually make its way back to Fargo, thawed (in the fridge, not on the counter) and then turkey-basted back into Betsy. Indeed, a miracle on ice.

Anyways, people were very generous. I mean VERY generous - in time together, prayers, and gifts.

One of the gifts we received was from, you guessed it, StaMart.

You can see the onsie in the photo, but you may have a hard time reading it.

The onsie says, "I'm From North Dakota. Let's Get Drunk."

I love StaMart.

I am so curious what the staff meeting was like a few months ago:

"Hey, you know what we need to display next to the baseball-bat-shaped cigarette lighters?"

"No. What?"

"Baby onsies."

"Dang! That is the best idea I have heard since the time Jim suggested we stack the cases of pop into the shape of the Alamo."

"Okay, hear me out on this. I think we should have the onsies say, 'North Dakota - catch the Spirit and the Spit.'"

"No. How about this, 'North Dakota, our state is flat and our babies are bumpy.'"

"Ah, I don't think so. How about, "I'm from North Dakota, Let's Get Drunk."

"Okay, now we are thinking! That sounds great! You call that guy and let's place an order!"

You now how some parents have special skills or hobbies they share with their children? You know, like a hunting dad may teach a child how to hunt or a crafty mom may teach a child how to knit?

Well, I hope to be one of those dads.

I hope I will be a dad that will teach our daughter to make shifting noises while driving a toy car or perhaps I can be a dad that will teach our son the correct ratings system of evaluating gas station food items.

(Betsy will be the mom that explains that "hot dogs" are not an essential food group like dad says.)