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Mecca
The drive from Southern to Northern California on the I-5 can be a long, arduous one. Punctuated only by the occasional masturbation break and periodically swerving to avoid missing small animals on the road. Should you find yourself traversing this lonely path, there are small beacons of hope along the way, dropped like roofies into an Appletini. Each oasis contains its own hidden treasures, if you choose to explore the beauty that is the mini-mart.
Lost Hills, CA
Pilot Travel Center
This is the CostCo of mini-marts. In fact, the "mini" is completely inappropriate. This place is easily the size of a Trader Joe's, but you won't find any organically harvested celery sticks. You will find Tijuana Mama spicy pickled sausage. The package claims it's "300% hotter" than its predecessor, the Big Mama pickled sausage. As my tongue, esophagus, stomach, upper intestine, lower intestine, and ultimately sphincter can attest...they're right! No wonder the Central Valley is agriculturally rich, the soil is constantly replenished with nutrients from drivers pulling over to squirt that fiery demon back into hell just ten miles after leaving the parking lot.
Before you enjoy those steam-compressed entrails, be sure to drop by the men's room, where a mere quarter will get you a generous spritz of imitation Obsession, Polo, Polo Sport or Drakkar. I prefer Drakkar as it tends to give one a classy European flair. I've never worn a Speedo and a gold chain on a beach in Ibiza, but if I did, I bet it would feel like this. I tried out my new found sex appeal on a woman I spotted shoplifting some peanut M&Ms. "Go to hell," she snarled. I recognized the weather-beaten minx as Miss Outlaw Biker Magazine 1987. How she fell from those lofty heights to this I'll never know. Last but not least, the beef jerky selection here is second to none. The people at Jack Link's are truly artists, and a dried out cow cadaver is their canvas. The Jerky Chew is stellar, shredded to a fine pulp, it almost looks like real chew. There's nothing like the feel of a little cow cheek and gum between your own cheek and gum.
Love's
Directly across the street sits the Pilot Center's main competition, Love's. Similar in size, the Love's mini-mart has one feature not found at Pilot's, fine apparel. It's a great selection of clothing, especially if you're looking for something involving a rebel flag, pleated denim, or "Jesus Saves, Fuck Darwin" written in rhinestone. The combination of my 25-cent cologne and a new $8 polo shirt now made me irresistible to the Lot Lizards emerging from the cabs of semis parked out front.
Love's cinema section was not to be ignored either. I was lucky enough to get my hands on the last copy of the 1973 Burt Reynolds / Dyan Cannon masterpiece "Shamus." Lucky for me they had it on laser disk. As I admired the massive laser disk jacket, I knew in my heart that in 1973 Burt Reynolds would also have worn fake Drakkar. I'd made the right choice. What the Pilot Center does for beef jerky, Love's does for cigarette lighters. Do I need retractable head German Shepherd butane lighter? Yes, I do. How about a Zippo large enough to burn Joan of Arc at the stake? You bet. Fire in the hole!
Which is better?
Pilot: Adjacent Wendy's Love's: Adjacent Arby's
Advantage: Love's
Pilot: Any and every cow-based meat snack Love's: Over forty types of cigarette lighters
Advantage: Pilot Travel Center
Pilot: Pungent mini-mart aroma (hot dogs & air freshner) Love's: Dolly Parton puff paint T-Shirt
Bud Light y Cameltoe: No me gusta.
Advantage: Pilot Travel Center
Winner: Pilot Travel Center
Firebaugh, CA
Palms Market
Firebaugh...gateway to Fresno. Halfway between Nowhere and BFE lies the Palms Market. I was disappointed at first, this place actually contained some healthy items. Dried fruits, almonds, berries, what the fuck? If I wanted berries I'd go buy a Hostess Fruit Pie like everyone else. Fearing I might leave here empty handed, I continued toward the back of the store, past the sundry goods, past the useless ceramic figurines. Past the Third Eye Blind cassettes, overpriced at an outrageous 99-cents. I headed for the beer section skeptically. One recurring theme with all these places is the distinct absence of malt liquor. I guess they want to discourage pounding a 40 before driving a tanker truck 300 miles in three hours. My expectations were low, but as it turned out this establishment would hold one treasure I'd never laid eyes on before. As I neared the fridge, the can looked unusual, completely unfamiliar... Was it some weird new label? A promotional item? No, it was Bud Light premixed with Clamato.
Clamato in and of itself is an unholy combination, mixing the run off from an Amsterdam brothel with rancid McDonald's ketchup. Now add to the equation a beer with all the potency of tap water and you've got 22oz. of the most hideous beverage you can imagine. Known as the "Chelada," it's like you mixed a Bloody Mary in a compost pile.
Tasting notes on the Chelada: Robust red color, reminiscent of the blood that fills one's cornea after vomiting too hard. Excellent bouquet- the nose has hints of urine, rotting vegetables, syphilis, and misery. Strong hints of turpentine upon the initial taste, with a slight horse piss finish.
Recommended Food Pairings: Funions, Newports
The Rotten Robbie, Santa Nella, CA
Mrs. Robbie's Market
Still reeking of Drakkar despite going 90 with the windows down, I pulled into Mrs. Robbie's. Though small in terms of square footage, Mrs. Robbie's Market packs a punch. If you need Phillies blunts in peach, grape, watermelon or strawberry then you've come to the right place. I never saw anything wrong with their classic "pig shit" scent, but apparently there's a market for these fancy new flavors. When the early-to-mid 90s eventually come back in style again and people start rollin' mad blunts, Mrs. Robbie will make a killing.
The Secret Ingredient.
Mrs. Robbie's Market had the first and only Icee machine of my trip. It's hard to find a good Icee these days. Not Slurpee, but its far smoother, more refreshing cousin, the Icee. As a child, my parents always told me that what made an Icee so perfect and delicious was that it was made from dead polar bears. Their rich blubber adds a smooth consistency. Even when I learned that wasn't true, I still liked them.
Mrs. Robbie's Market is also a great place if you're in the market for an ax handle. No blade, no ax, no real way to attach one, just the handle on a leather rope. This item is meant for one thing and one thing only: bustin' skulls. Two things if you count sodomy. I gave a few test swings to the Equalizer 3000. It felt light and comfortable to swing, and easily smashed through the bottles of Dos Equis I'd set up on the counter. But at $27 it was a little pricey. I paid for the Dos Equis and left.
I continued north and watched Mrs. Robbie's Market disappear in my rear view mirror, blue raspberry Icee staining my teeth, tongue and clothes. Soon I'd reach my destination. These exotic markets would be a thing of the past and I'd have to settle for Circle K and AM/PM. Luckily I'd be making the drive back before my cologne wore off.
Posts: 1924 Rank: 6 Joined:
2/27/2007
Location:
Ventura, CA
Posted: 7/13/2007 11:24:39 AM
Any suggestions for Utah and Colorado? I have to drive from Chicago to L.A. next month and I am looking for some good stopping points. Preferably porn shops, coke dealers and liqour stores.
Posts: 236 Rank: 29 Joined:
5/31/2007
Location:
Gilbert, AZ
Posted: 7/13/2007 12:08:34 PM
In the vast border wasteland of north eastern Illinois and Iowa sits the I-80 truck stop/shop - the self professed "World's Largest Amoco". It's hard not to stop at anyplace that's billed as "World's Largest".
I think they had the worlds largest assortment of Truckers Toilets. Apparently you can buy these little thrones for the predicament that can't be solved by an empty large mouth gatoraid bottle.
As we were young and passing around some luke warm Mad Dog for the roadie to Drake relays - one of us thought it would be funny to open one up and try it out. I believe it is a rare talent to be able to drop trou and concentrate on growing a tail in a tiny plastic toilet in between aisles 3 and 4.
Posts: 1517 Rank: 5 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
New York, NY
Posted: 7/13/2007 12:55:55 PM
As someone who has driven that ungodly stretch of Interstate 5 more times than I would like to admit this article actually made me feel wram and fuzzy inside. Whenever I stopped at one of these fine establishments I had a rule that I had to buy one piece of music and listen to it on the trip. I always hoped they had some Lynyrd Skynyrd or ZZ Top because if they didn't the drop off was rather steep...like "Alabama's Greatest Hits" on tape steep.
Posts: 177 Rank: 50 Joined:
4/8/2007
Location:
Chicago, IL
Posted: 7/13/2007 1:01:18 PM
Why the fuck will you be in Chicago? You better be getting a sex change at one of our fine hospitals or something and then high-tailing it the fuck out of here. I can assure you there will be an APB out on your ass with some hard, pipe-hitting motherfuckers.
Posts: 236 Rank: 29 Joined:
5/31/2007
Location:
Gilbert, AZ
Posted: 7/13/2007 1:55:40 PM
If feel its necessary that on a true roadie that you can only fill up your gas tank from stations that are so out of the way they feel the need to post "Please do not bring your firearms into store" signs.
You know - I was a little trepidatious for the milisecond I read "firearm" and then flat out scared when I saw the "s" at the end. There are people that regularly walk in with more than one gun on them??? So much so as to require a sign out front?
Posts: 2 Rank: 2064 Joined:
7/12/2007
Location:
Los Angeles, CA
Posted: 7/13/2007 6:27:50 PM
I was actually driving from LA to cleveland a few weeks back. And the onlything i looked forward to was visiting a Flying J to look at all the kewl crap they had.
I even bought the redneck shirts and some really comfortable sandals. The food left somethign to be desired. There was a 4 pound hot dog rolled up in 3 donuts i think.
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