Mr. B’s
I took myself out to lunch today. Cynde and Conor are away for the weekend. Yesterday, I spent the entire day detailing my car. I mean the entire day: from 9 to 5. It was the kind of thorough going-over that would set you back a few hundred dollars, if you could find someone to do the job. All that work, and that was just the exterior. This morning I got up and cleaned the inside of the car – carpet, leather, windows.
So I was pooped. And sick of working. Lunch out sounded like a nice treat, and it would give me a chance to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my day. I jumped in the car (oh, so shiny and clean) and drove off. I was in the mood for a pulled pork barbeque sandwich. There’s a place not too far from me, a chain restaurant, that makes a pretty good one.
On the way to the restaurant I had a change of mind. Not about the pulled pork sandwich, but about the pretty good part. I wanted a really good barbeque, the kind that you can only find at a roadside shack out in the country. Slow-cooked meat cooked over an open pit that you can smell from miles away. Without even a second thought, I turned the car around and headed west.
I drove a good, long way, detouring wherever possible off the highways and onto the curvy country roads that were fun to drive in my tight little German car. These were also the roads where I was most likely to find my barbeque shack. The windows were open and my nose was on vigil.
After about an hour of driving I realized that I had no idea where I was. I didn’t have any maps with me (I cleared out the car a little too thoroughly this morning), but I wasn’t worried. I was having fun and sooner or later I’d turn up somewhere I recognized. It was a gorgeous day. I had the sunroof open and I was blasting tunes on the CD player. Then I smelled the smell that I was searching for. I saw the sign just as I was passing it, and I had to slam on the brakes to make the turn into the parking lot and not the corn field just beyond. Mr. B’s Barbeque Pit. And what a pit it was! Still, my nose knew, so I followed it inside.
The proprietor of the shack (Mr. B?) was a middle-aged black man with a great big smile that showcased the last few teeth in his mouth. I told the man why I was here and he said that I had come to the right place. Amen to that. He made me a pulled pork barbeque sandwich that I will remember for a long time to come. It was piled high with tender pork, smothered in zesty barbeque sauce and topped with homemade coleslaw on a fresh Kaiser roll.
I sat outside of Mr. B’s at a picnic table on the side of the road and savored every bite of that sandwich. I wanted another one, but decided that it was probably best not to overdo it. Indigestion would diminish this fond memory, and I would certainly not want that to happen. I got back in my car and started driving again. At the next crossroads, a sign indicated that Front Royal was only nineteen miles away. Front Royal is the gateway to Skyline drive, a splendid road that snakes along the ridge tops of the Appalachian mountains in Shenandoah National Park. I hadn’t been up on Skyline drive in years and here I was at the gateway to the gateway. What the hell, I told myself, and headed to Front Royal and beyond to Shenandoah National Park.
Skyline drive was busy but the cars were well-spaced so I could enjoy the scenic views without worrying about smashing into the vehicle in front of me. In just a few more weeks, this road will be packed with tourists out here to enjoy the Fall foliage. It is one of the most popular National Parks in the country when the trees are at their peak colors. For now, though, the trees are showing no signs of turning. I drove for awhile, then pulled over at one of the Park’s many nature trails and took a long walk in the woods. What a great feeling it was to walk in such natural beauty, especially when just a few hours earlier I had no idea I would even be here.
Shenandoah National Park trends north-south. I came in at the north gate and was heading southbound. About 30 miles down Skyline drive was Thornton gap, my first opportunity to exit the park. It was starting to get late so I decided to head home. Leaving this way, I was able to loop back and not cover the same roads I came in on, not that I could even tell you what roads those were!
I stayed on country roads as much as I could on the way back. But, drive far enough, and you will eventually run head-long into suburbia replete as it is with its strip malls and interminable traffic lights. For the last few miles, I hopped on the interstate and blasted my way back to the familiar turf of my neighborhood.
Six hours after I set off for lunch I am home again feeling, well, hungry. I open my refrigerator and find nothing. Zilch. I’ll need to go out for dinner. I wonder where I should go.
7:30:34 PM  Stories
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