There’s something about the American diner that stirs the imagination. Maybe I’ve watched too many road movies but the thought of spending a life behind the wheel checking out each diner you come across seems a perfect existence to me. If my numbers ever come in I might just do it.
This particular diner had all the requisite attributes demanded of any classic diner (plus bonus Americana points for name, location and rail road tracks out front) – the long counter, vast booths, waitress with the coffee refill permanently on the go and eggs over easy – or is it easy over? I never do remember.