 Everyone's aware that the old truck stop at the edge of town is a
good place to eat and drink coffee, which is why it's a favorite
with the locals. When the interstate came by, three miles away, we
believed the Barn would be another victim of progress. But the truck
drivers kept driving the extra six miles so they could sit in
comfort and use the coffee cups hanging on the wall with their names
on it, and gain another 2 pounds eating the Barn's famous
chicken-fried steak that would make a decent meal for any two
sensible people.Out on the interstate is the new truck stop, with
showers and telephone plug-ins and an entire selection of Louis
L'Amour tapes for drivers bored with driving late at night. But many
drivers still detour to the edge of town and are greeted by the
waitresses as family.
All we know is that's where we like to go -- those of us who are
married, and those of us who aren't anymore or never have been. It's
another of our homes.
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column]
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So when Doc brought along an old medical school pal who lives in
a city in the next state and introduced him to the guys, we weren't
surprised. It's what we do when we like someone.
But after a couple of cups, and after repairing several gaps in
the world's collective thinking, Doc's friend had this to say, and
we just nodded.
"You know, when we came in here, our waitress said, 'Hi, Hon. How
you doing today?' She brought me a cup of coffee without my even
asking. In 40 years of marriage, I believe that's happened twice."
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
If you enjoy these columns, invite someone
home for dinner this month. Then
let this paper know you did it. |
