Enjoyed rereading this from your book, Paul. I'm quite familiar with the Austin minimart gas station, especially since it's now the only safe and decent place to buy food. Toyabe Cafe got sunk by COVID and the stories and reviews coming out about the International Cafe are downright horrifying. The daughter told me it's a real shit-show. You know, Paul, when the bar tender walks into the restroom behind a woman, there's evil afoot. So sad. That was an interesting place.
Thanks, Sue. And, aside from my hot springs soaking buddy, also named Paul, you're the only one I know who can talk about Austin, Nevada with real authority. That's sad to hear about the Toyabe Cafe. Wasn't there another diner in that town or am I mixing the two of them up? I always used to stay at the Pony Canyon, but that's for another piece.
The only other one I know of was the International Cafe, which I mentioned in my comment. There was the Owl Club, one of four in the state, but we never went there. Went to the Owl Club in Eureka, though, and enjoyed several good lunches ... except one where the cook took a very long cigarette break in the middle of preparing our lunch. Weird, but a few years ago, I heard it from a very good authority (the sheriff) that the place was Meth Central.
Another great piece of writing, Paul, thank you. I've traveled too many times through the desert in the wee hours where the total darkness is pinpricked by a spot of light floating in the distance ahead.. It grows and grows until it is a pool of brightness of eternal flame mesmerizing the lonely moth. Another solitary gas station closed and locked with a harsh prison light left on. I read Exit Culture, thanks again.
Hi Doc! Thanks so much for the compliment. It means a lot to me. If not "everything," it means "more than you might think" and I appreciate it. We all toil away and put things out into the world and then live our daily lives, so to know you bought the book and enjoyed it, then took the time to comment here is something. I thank you. And yes, you could maybe divide the world up - although it's too divided already, but for argument's sake - into either: people who have driven by themselves in the desert at night with their own thoughts, awake and aware and on another plane. And then everybody else. All the best! ~ Paul
"Twin beacons of hope and alienation glow into the night." Fantastic. Opposites attract. Paul, in this lovely work and in the photgraphs' perfection of neon colors against expanding night skies, you really do capture the space ship in the desert that are these beautiful and mysterious gas stations, lit up and ready to take off from this planet, desperate for their own warp speed. The lift off has to be awesome, not at all like the setting down. Hoping for something more to see than their one eye can load. Ah, the camera and tripod. Would be neat to see one of your beautiful gas stations landing, aliens in the coffee shop, the crew topping off the tank to make sure to get back to the outer world. Not your world. But your courage to take in this country, the remote, the driving tick, all of it I know you have a great fondness for. Leaves this reader with a ton of thoughts, all gift packages for my own attraction for solitude and crazy danger when I was a kid. Once, at 13, hopped a ride on back of a Hell's Angels bike from Montauk to Manhattan, I ate a lot of bugs, I think, but the biker was nice and quite protective of his guest rider. Under my chin, he tighten the strap of his guest helmet. He let me off at 79th and Lex where I had a room and cot rented by my mother. I know. I know. The biker was generous to drive me in when he spotted me with my thumb out by the gas station out of by the sea. Nice memory. How the unexpected can be a safe place, despite the speed and carve around traffic. It was dark out when he sped away. Never saw him again.
Thanks, Connie, as always, for getting it. And thanks for the vision of the gas station as an alien space craft. If only we could take off and leave! And thanks for that story of hitchhiking. I think the world was more innocent then, somehow. xox
It really helps to read good solid literature whenever, but especially at this particular nervous making time for me. Think reading is so precious, writing, too, but it is the reading that I rely on, and your work does the trick. So thanks for your continued great work. Xoxo C.
Thanks, and yes, that's a good one. Hopper has a good one, as well. Not really night, but it feels that way in his. There's one in Wyoming I never got that I still think about. Might be time to get out there again and give it another try.
Great article! Thirty years ago, I worked the evening shift at a gas station on the outskirts of Grand Rapids, Michigan. I locked the doors, alone, at 11pm and didn't think twice about stocking coolers, mopping floors, and leaving at midnight. Not sure I'd want to risk my safety doing that in these times. I used to work a "clopen" every Friday night and Saturday morning. You are very correct about how different it is being the clerk stuck behind the counter while you help customers prepare for a day at the beach with their friends or family. It can get very lonely.
Thanks, Lisa! You can divide humanity into two portions - those who have worked front-facing jobs from behind a counter and those who haven't. Maybe that's not fair, as there are plenty of other difficult jobs out there, but you know what I'm talking about. Thanks for reading this.
Enjoyed rereading this from your book, Paul. I'm quite familiar with the Austin minimart gas station, especially since it's now the only safe and decent place to buy food. Toyabe Cafe got sunk by COVID and the stories and reviews coming out about the International Cafe are downright horrifying. The daughter told me it's a real shit-show. You know, Paul, when the bar tender walks into the restroom behind a woman, there's evil afoot. So sad. That was an interesting place.
Thanks, Sue. And, aside from my hot springs soaking buddy, also named Paul, you're the only one I know who can talk about Austin, Nevada with real authority. That's sad to hear about the Toyabe Cafe. Wasn't there another diner in that town or am I mixing the two of them up? I always used to stay at the Pony Canyon, but that's for another piece.
The only other one I know of was the International Cafe, which I mentioned in my comment. There was the Owl Club, one of four in the state, but we never went there. Went to the Owl Club in Eureka, though, and enjoyed several good lunches ... except one where the cook took a very long cigarette break in the middle of preparing our lunch. Weird, but a few years ago, I heard it from a very good authority (the sheriff) that the place was Meth Central.
Love this. Terrific in the choice of words and images.
Thank you, Glenn! I appreciate you taking the time to comment.
Another great piece of writing, Paul, thank you. I've traveled too many times through the desert in the wee hours where the total darkness is pinpricked by a spot of light floating in the distance ahead.. It grows and grows until it is a pool of brightness of eternal flame mesmerizing the lonely moth. Another solitary gas station closed and locked with a harsh prison light left on. I read Exit Culture, thanks again.
Hi Doc! Thanks so much for the compliment. It means a lot to me. If not "everything," it means "more than you might think" and I appreciate it. We all toil away and put things out into the world and then live our daily lives, so to know you bought the book and enjoyed it, then took the time to comment here is something. I thank you. And yes, you could maybe divide the world up - although it's too divided already, but for argument's sake - into either: people who have driven by themselves in the desert at night with their own thoughts, awake and aware and on another plane. And then everybody else. All the best! ~ Paul
Yes. Exit Culture. A place in the heart as the saying goes. Paul's is so true. I love his creativity and precious solitude.
❤️
"Twin beacons of hope and alienation glow into the night." Fantastic. Opposites attract. Paul, in this lovely work and in the photgraphs' perfection of neon colors against expanding night skies, you really do capture the space ship in the desert that are these beautiful and mysterious gas stations, lit up and ready to take off from this planet, desperate for their own warp speed. The lift off has to be awesome, not at all like the setting down. Hoping for something more to see than their one eye can load. Ah, the camera and tripod. Would be neat to see one of your beautiful gas stations landing, aliens in the coffee shop, the crew topping off the tank to make sure to get back to the outer world. Not your world. But your courage to take in this country, the remote, the driving tick, all of it I know you have a great fondness for. Leaves this reader with a ton of thoughts, all gift packages for my own attraction for solitude and crazy danger when I was a kid. Once, at 13, hopped a ride on back of a Hell's Angels bike from Montauk to Manhattan, I ate a lot of bugs, I think, but the biker was nice and quite protective of his guest rider. Under my chin, he tighten the strap of his guest helmet. He let me off at 79th and Lex where I had a room and cot rented by my mother. I know. I know. The biker was generous to drive me in when he spotted me with my thumb out by the gas station out of by the sea. Nice memory. How the unexpected can be a safe place, despite the speed and carve around traffic. It was dark out when he sped away. Never saw him again.
Thanks, Connie, as always, for getting it. And thanks for the vision of the gas station as an alien space craft. If only we could take off and leave! And thanks for that story of hitchhiking. I think the world was more innocent then, somehow. xox
It really helps to read good solid literature whenever, but especially at this particular nervous making time for me. Think reading is so precious, writing, too, but it is the reading that I rely on, and your work does the trick. So thanks for your continued great work. Xoxo C.
https://www.plan59.com/av/av275.htm
Thanks, and yes, that's a good one. Hopper has a good one, as well. Not really night, but it feels that way in his. There's one in Wyoming I never got that I still think about. Might be time to get out there again and give it another try.
Awkward not being able to post images here, having to post links instead, but if you scroll down here there’s a bunch
https://www.istockphoto.com/photo/an-empty-filling-station-under-an-illuminated-awning-at-night-surrounded-by-complete-gm1222084435-358485117?searchscope=image%2Cfilm
Great article! Thirty years ago, I worked the evening shift at a gas station on the outskirts of Grand Rapids, Michigan. I locked the doors, alone, at 11pm and didn't think twice about stocking coolers, mopping floors, and leaving at midnight. Not sure I'd want to risk my safety doing that in these times. I used to work a "clopen" every Friday night and Saturday morning. You are very correct about how different it is being the clerk stuck behind the counter while you help customers prepare for a day at the beach with their friends or family. It can get very lonely.
Thanks, Lisa! You can divide humanity into two portions - those who have worked front-facing jobs from behind a counter and those who haven't. Maybe that's not fair, as there are plenty of other difficult jobs out there, but you know what I'm talking about. Thanks for reading this.
https://www.google.com/search?sca_esv=8853951cf4495cb9&rlz=1CDGOYI_enUS833US834&hl=en-US&q=truck+stop+at+night+1960&udm=2&fbs=AEQNm0B3WNFCYvaBrNDHYAL-6rQS6KYCfg7rXRKIwBLvFbxOrU_ptJEeGAEeqTAWwzj5eCnSFVVcsbnlUyBulQ8oY49GRvSyEYzlnF9K0KrMpbybPLaeh8LFcvj-nwnNWnJ_TW4eI2OWRi7aqRYhD6b44H4wT0iiAAxH9ZI40N21s8sWcnlgbbsQJt5xr4m02mUZz3_2voyaXpi64m7MobUwdkVLJbADBSs9tAAWLIzwMQPJI6jilkk&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiA0PTzkZeKAxWIL9AFHco_LsgQtKgLegQIFhAB&biw=414&bih=720&dpr=2#vhid=iy3f6f24bsDGvM&vssid=mosaic