Yesterday Sparks and I made the long trip North to visit my parents for a few days. As we cleared the congestion of the last major metropolis on the way, it occurred to us that we’d better stop for dinner because, seriously, we may not have another chance. We began looking at exit signs, hoping to find fast food. We found so much more.
We found a vintage diner. But wait, there’s more.
There was also a bar in a vintage diner. But wait, there’s more.
The older, original Rosie’s Diner is still there. So there were three vintage diners sitting all together in one location. They have been chopped to increase interior capacity, but the fronts are real.
The interior was all red and pink and chrome and glass brick, exactly as it should be. We sat in a cozy semi-circular booth.
Of course they have pie. Did you doubt it?
Mr. Vintage Vinyl was in his element. These kinds of things find him.
Perhaps they find him because he knows how to enjoy them correctly. A diner experience has to involve a milkshake with two straws, right? This one was chocolate-peanut butter. Mmmmm. I’m so glad that he appreciates chocolate and peanut butter.
Then there was the footlong hot dog with everything. And kraut. The fries were freshly fried and delicious. My sandwich came with homemade chips, which were also delicious.
Alas, we had miles to go before we slept, so there was no time to enjoy the diner-themed putt putt course. It was there, though.
From there onwards, until we reached my parents’ cabin-in-the-woods some time after dark. You will of course be reaping the bloggy benefits of that for the next few days.