Running a little low on topics tonight. I was supposed to meet up with a friend to repair his computer, but he never got back to me. So, trucking story? Trucking story.
So on I-10 about half-way between Los Angeles and Phoenix is a pair of small towns. On the California side of the border is Blythe, and on the Arizona side is Ehrenberg. Neither town is particularly large, in fact today their only claims to fame really are that they have a truck stop a piece. Ehrenberg has a “Flying Hook” (Flying J), and Blythe has the BB Travel Center, which is an old 76 Truck Stop.
Ehrenberg was originally a mining town in the late 1800’s that has since been dying a slow death. Blythe, on the other hand has made itself a bit of a travel hub, being pretty much dead between San Bernardino, and Phoenix, 200 miles south of Las Vegas. The town, I’m surprised to learn, is actually quite sizeable, with a population up in the six-digits. Which is kind of mind-blowing because when you’re there it looks like flat desert about as far as you can see in any direction.
Any ways, this is yet another food story.
So I’d had a load heading east from someplace out west (I can’t remember locations, this was a really common run for me), and I needed to stop for the evening, and get a little chow in me. I knew I’d be cutting it close, but technically the truck stop diner doesn’t close until 22:00. Thankfully my scheduling was just right, and lo-and-behold I arrived at the truck stop at 21:30.
I parked the truck and flew out of the cab and into the diner, where I noted that two customers were settling up, and the cook was about to clean up. Well, being hungry, and not exactly prideful, I walked up to the counter and asked if I could order a sandwich to go (no sense making them stay later than I was already about to). The waitress agreed, and the cook realized what was going on. I’ve never seen such a petite woman throw a five-gallon pot that far before. Needless to say, she was not a happy camper, but made my food anyways.
I was extremely thankful that they stayed late and took care of me, so I tipped the waitress the customary amount, then I gave a tip to the chef that was equivalent to the price of the meal, and ran out before the cook could come after me.
I didn’t get back there for about another month, but the same cook was there, recognized me and waved like crazy when she saw me. Found out what my order was, and basically gave me a double order.
Sometimes things even out.
While writing this I discovered that the BB Travel Center has apparently fallen on some rough(er) times, and even though recent photos show that the exterior has had a paint job, the diner is apparently closed. While it’s not surprising, it is just a little sad to see a place that I have mostly fond memories of start to fail.