Jim the Heel and his adventures in mediocrity: An American Tale Day 6

I had just 200 miles left on my journey, so I intended to savour every yard.
I sped off from the route 66 motel hungry...what to eat, I'd done Taco Bell, Jack in a box, Wendy's... what other Americana could I try.
Then, beyond the haze, like a mirage, I saw a sign (not the biblical sort, an actual sign)

Peggy Sue's 50's diner stands alone on a square of tarmac amongst the cactus and sand....perfect.
I felt like Marty Mcfly walking into 1955 and was welcomed by Betty Boo.

It had it all;
Ageing waitresses in full costume, check.
Mini jukeboxes on the counter playing rock n roll, check.
Sweating chefs behind an alcove saying "order up", check.
What a find.

The food was deliciously unhealthy, the coffee constantly topped up, and the local truckers surly. Breakfast should always be this fun.

After buying a little tat from the gift shop, I got in the car and flipped through the radio stations looking for a some suitable tunes for my entrance to Vegas, when I found the Elvis station. I'm not kidding, a radio station that plays Elvis...non stop....brilliant.

A couple of hours later came a very sad time. It was today I would say goodbye to the car.
Oh the times we had, the roads we'd driven, the laughs we shared. I must admit I had a bit of a moment.

My first night in Vegas would be away from the glitz and glamour of the strip, and would be spent in the old school, arty district of Downtown.

I did this to witness First Friday. A monthly arts and music festival held downtown that looked far too cool to miss.
First thing that happened when I got there, I got sold some drugs.