Cambridge is nestled in a valley of the rolling hills of rural Idaho, one of those small American towns that the county highway passes through, where you gradually slow down from 55 mph to 45 mph to 35 mph and eventually, 25 mph as you cruise through the main drag.  It feels natural, organic as if the road itself invited you to pull over for a break, a pause and a deep breath to refocus on the world around you.  Established in the early 1900s as a ranching and agricultural hub, time here moves slow, like the shadows of a hot summer day.  It seems to have proudly held onto its roots and keeping that small town way of life where store owners sweep the sidewalk in from of their small business, where families gather at the town diner and friday nights come well earned .

And nowhere is that charm more evident than at Loveland's General Store, a place that could easily be the poster child for small-town America. Walking through its doors instantly put me back home growing up as a kid, a virtual reality time capsule, a blast from the past boasting a full Hotwheels section, those paddles with a ball attached from a string that i never figured out how to bounce for more than maybe 5 times, old skool watermelon Laffy Taffy flavor, that had those little black candy seeds scattered throughout the green rectangular strip of taffy, cans of pork and beans the size of Nicole’s noggin and one hell of a Cambell’s soup section, where all the cans lay horizontal and when you grab the bottom one, all the cans above it violently fall, filling the newly opened space.