My stomach had rumbled steadily over the past hundred or so miles. There was nothing for it, I'd have to find somewhere to pull in and eat. As luck would have it I saw just the place - a little truckers restaurant sat back from the old road.
Inside and out cane seats sat under clean formica tabletops. There were no other customers around, maybe because it was by now way past lunchtime. A coffee machine hissed from the kitchen and a radio played hits from yesteryear. Soon a man wearing an apron appeared and took my order.
As I tucked in to the generous portion of ham and eggs, followed by pancakes drowning in maple syrup and ice cream, the man told me how his family had opened the place the previous century. He said business became tight a few years ago when the local plant, a big employer, relocated south.
"My name's John, by the way," he said, "I hate that it's me who's likely gonna put the shutters up. I started here as a boy, skipping school to work in the kitchen. But now the truck trade is good as gone." John looked to be somewhere in his early forties, which made the business seem even more sad.
After expressing sympathy I asked for the tab. The meal was dirt cheap and I was stuffed. I tipped generously before saying goodbye. He smiled back his thanks then returned to the kitchen and his radio.
I went on driving before less than half an hour later my stomach started to rumble again. Now I was even hungrier than before. Given the big meal I'd just had that made no sense.
There then appeared a mobile snack-bar parked up in a lay-by. I pulled in, got out and joined its small queue. "Double-burger, onions, mustard and a large black coffee," I ordered when my turn came.
The man serving looked the mirror image of the guy back at the restaurant. I had to double-take. I told him how I'd become inexplicably hungry soon after eating a late lunch just a few miles back. His face held my gaze.
"And this was where? " he asked.
I started to describe it to him, mentioning John and how good the food had been, especially at such a bargain price.
"That place shut down decades ago, mister. My daddy ran it until one day he just wandered off to nobody knows where - leaving the front door open, leaving his wife and child."
Closing
his eyes, he continued, "His name was John."
CC BY-ND 4.0 Russell Cavanagh