An Ode to the Roadside Diner

One thing must be assumed when stopping into a roadside diner for a meal. It’s usually about one of two things — the uniquely American experience, or the convenience. With rare exception, you are not likely in for great dining.

So it was on a Sunday early afternoon on one of America’s most beautiful highways — U.S. 395, which winds from the high Joshua Tree-dotted Mojave desert along the eastern Sierras, past the tallest mountain in the contiguous 48, miscellaneous charming frontier towns, dazzling Mono Lake, the stunning ghost town of Bodie, to Nevada and the eastern flank of Lake Tahoe and on to Oregon. We had just emerged from a long 20-mph southbound slog through blizzard-like whiteout conditions, descending toward home from a ski vacation in Mammoth, and were starved. More

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The Events of 1/13

It had already been a tough week.

Enjoying our ski vacation in Mammoth, we were hit with the news of the terrorist attacks at the satirical paper, Charlie Hebdo, in Paris.

I had once purchased the URL, chickensacrifice.com, thinking I would do some sort of satirical online publication. I never did.

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It was about 4 a.m. on the morning of January 13. I was returning in a daze from the bathroom to my bed when I heard a strange whimpering sound from outside — something like a cross between a baby crying and an owl. More