So you tell the kids that you're going to the Ligonier Marshmallow Fest and because they are too young to recognize the absurdity of it, they say "okay" and climb into their car seats. And so you say "okay" and climb into your grown-up seats and drive some part of an hour to stand in the sun and compare this small town fair to all the others you have been to.
And this one was sad, just how I like them. Hopeful, mostly vacant streets. The carnies too hot to bother you much. They let the kids cheat. The kids climb over the rail and knock down the targets with their fists, choose their crap, and leave.
This guy's van was parked next to about a hundred fancy antique hot rods. At first I assumed it was for sale, but now I think the sign was just for laffs.
It is not often you see a tent at a town fair selling--what are these, exactly? Under or outer wear? I was afraid to ask.