Food

Breakfast was at the “River City Diner” that was attached to the Holiday Inn. Could be a chain restaurant and seeing as most big towns have a river running thru it, it would fit right in nearly anywhere. The waiters wore bowling shirts and the waitresses wore something with very short sleeves and a collar that were left over from Rizzo’s closet. All shiny chrome and vinyl, the only thing missing were the classic diner shape and little jukeboxes in the booths. The food was diner plentiful, I ordered pancakes with 2 eggs scrambled and the flapjacks were as big as Frisbees and the eggs must have been from ostrich-sized chickens.

After saying so long to Sally and “little” Claire we were off to the west side of Richmond to visit Donna’s cousin Sue and family. Susie and Alex live in a tree lined planned community that is the picture next to the term suburb in the central Virginia encyclopedia. They have three beautiful girls and whenever we pop in for a visit (approximately every half decade) we bring gifts for them. This time it was t-shirts with Aiken and horses on them, three different designs for three different ages. When kids are little they will put on anything mom pops over their heads, but at some age they will develope a style sense of their own making clothing a risky gift, so who knows they might put them on and never want to take them off or the only use they’ll get is to wipe up spilled Pepsi. The only daughter home was the oldest, 13 or 14 and she hung out in the kitchen with us adults as we discussed Donna’s breast cancer which then segued into medical insurance. Maybe there was nothing on MTV or she just wanted to hang with the grown-ups. I just hope in 2055 or so she thinks back to that “aunt” who had breast cancer, was cured because they caught it early and starts getting yearly mammograms herself.

We didn’t leave there until about 10:30, so we hopped on I-95 and started south. Donna drove for 60 miles then I did a 60 mile shift before we stopped at a Cracker Barrel for lunch where we both ate too much again. After lunch, I continued south on I-95 until we could take the monotonous snapping of tires over concrete expansion joints no more. We jumped onto the back roads and made our way over to the town founded by Fred and Lamont in 1977 after they quit the junk business, Sanford, North Carolina.

There was a Sagebrush right across the street from the hotel, so that is where we went for a late dinner. This is the fourth different Sagebrush I have dined at and they are now batting .500. Rock Hill, SC and Monroe, NC are winners, every time I’ve been there I have wanted to go back. The one that lasted a year and a half in Aiken was awful all three times we went. Sanford, NC now joins them in the losers column. Our waiter had to be asked to bring us the usual bucket of peanuts that are their equivalent of the chips and salsa at a Mexican eatery. Our salads arrived 3 or so minutes after our main course. My blue cheese dressing was the worst I ever had and that is saying something. The steak was good, except the cook was a little heavy handed with the grilling spices. Plus I think whoever cooked up the Bunkhouse Beans mistook the teaspoon abbreviation for tablespoon, because those bad boys were peppery. I didn’t say anything because this is the first time I’ve had them and for all I know that is their signature way of doing beans…