Destinations Diner

 

Destinations Diner

Gary Alioto is about to make a decision.  Its ramifications are far reaching and unchangeable.
 


    “Windy today isn’t it?” said a lanky driver. He removed an insulated wind breaker shaking the snow from it. Underneath he wore a red plaid wool shirt over heavy brown corduroy pants.  With Schneider on the bill, is orange baseball cap was his instant ID.

Interstate 80 had been especially hard to navigate. His tractor pulled a 53’ trailer behind. It was so loaded  that the fuel he was taking on now, would put him within 75 pounds of the weight limit.  Gary Alioto laid his huge wallet on the fuel desk. He removed the fuel card and handed it to the thin faced middle  aged woman behind the counter. After she rang up the $150 fuel charge she smiled. Her large brown Native American eyes sparkled with mischief.

        “Don’t get blown off the road.  If you want to go east you can forget going over Elk Mountain. Until this wind dies down, the Highway Patrol has it closed. They have let nobody through  for the past three hours.”


        Gary looked around the Flying J truck stop. The dining area was full as was the parking lot outside. He was almost out of hours to drive, but his brother, Tony had a whole shift available.  Stops like this cut into their paychecks because this was a hot load to be delivered in Omaha as soon as possible. No bonus now.  He went back to his truck to look at his road bible hoping to find  another way around.  That would avoid Elk Mountain and the highway closure.


        Snow was beginning to fall. Gary left Tony studying the map and the highway bible while he went back in to check the TV weather information.  The wind and the snow are expected to gain intensity for the next 48 hours. He went to the coffee dispenser and filled his quart and a half thermos with coffee.  He took a handful of sugar packets and another of creamer packet.  He used the card he got from filling his truck for free coffee.  The lady behind the counter asked, “You ain’t thinking about trying to push on, are you?  The boys in blue give out some expensive tickets for that.”


        “I think we’ll ride this storm out at the 76 rest area.”


        “I hope you have food!”


        “We prepared for pretty much anything.”  Gary was smug, now he had a full tank of fuel and sets of chains for his drive wheels if it came to that.  They had stopped at a Walmart in Rock Springs and their cupboard was full.  He zipped up the insulated windbreaker he had worn from the truck.


        Tony was in the driver’s seat.  Gary opened the passenger side door. “Brought us some brewed coffee. I know you hate instant.” Tony held out his empty cup and Gary filled it about 2/3 full. “Creamer and sugar,” he said holding out two of each. “Did you find an alternate route?”


        “We can take Hwy 287 and loop north of Elk Mountain and back to Laramie.  It adds a few miles and we will have to chain up. I talked to a guy on the CB who came that way from Laramie, pulling a horse trailer with four rodeo horses in it.  Says the snow is drifting all the way but he didn’t see a highway patrol anywhere.”


        “That means 20 to 25 MPH, with the chains on.  We will lose a lot of time but that is better than waiting two days at a truck stop,” said Gary.


        Tony put the truck in gear and started the process of getting back to I 80.  The exit to Medicine Bow was a few miles up.  They turned north and the truck slid a little.  Tony continued driving for thirty minutes. The snow was swirling into drifts and the wind shows no sign of letting up.  “Time for chains, I sure wouldn’t want to go off the road in this God forsaken country,” said Tony.  It took an hour to put the eight chains on the drive wheels. The snow was almost impossible to see through and night had fallen; it was pitch black..


        “Damn cold, we gotta keep moving.”  The next thirty minutes they averaged 25 miles an hour. The wind was not letting up and the temperature dropped rapidly. “One thing about the extreme cold, it doesn’t snow so hard.”  The snow was fine as baker’s flour and blew in streamers across the road.


        The wind buffeted the truck which took up both lanes to stay on the road.  One good thing there wasn’t another soul in sight. Gary sat rigid in the passenger’s seat.  There would be no sleep for him with the truck wallowing side to side in the snow and wind.


        A small road sign appeared, ‘Medicine Bow three miles.’  “Civilization?” asked Gary.


        “Don’t count on it,” said Tony.  They finally reached Medicine Bow which was an intersection with a blinking light.  There were no  lights anywhere else. “It looks like all the people got cold and left.”  He chuckled but his attempt at humor was thin.  It seemed to him that they were inching their way through the dark toward the drop off at the edge of the world.  He did not mention his ominous feeling to Gary, who was very quiet.


        It seemed like hours passed without making any discernible headway. The outside temperature showed -39 F.  The snow had stopped. But there was still plenty of fine powder in the air  propeled by the fierce wind.


        Both men heaved a sigh of relief when the sign for Rock River came alight in their headlights. Again there was no sign of life except one street light dangling by its wires. swinging back and forth. The wind.  made a sound like moaning as it whipped around the square back of the trailer.


        “Well we are way more than half way to Laramie. In an hour or so we will be back on the Interstate.” Tony sounded tired from fighting the truck in the wind.  As they came to the top of a hill 15 minutes later, the truck began missing and died as they reached the top.  “Damn, the fuel lines will gel in  a few minutes at this temperature; look it is -42 F outside.”  Tony tapped the temperature gauge to make sure. He grabbed the CB Microphone. “This is Fishman two, my Truck has stalled on Hwy 297 a little way out of Rock River toward Laramie.  We sure could use some help.”


        The CB squawked back.  “You must be close; your signal is loud and clear. Help is on the way, Good Buddy. Stay in your truck, there is a killer wind tonight.” Gary leaned against the door and drifted off to sleep. Tony adjusted his seat and followed suit.


********

 
        There was a burst of static and then the lights of a pickup truck came around a slight curve. The side was emblazoned with “Vern’s Towing and Service Cottonwood Wyoming.”


        “Get in you must be frozen stiff,” said a friendly voice over the CB.


        The Alioto brothers climbed down from the big orange truck and walked to the waiting blue pickup. They climbed into the now crowded front seat.  “I’ll take you to the Destinations Diner in Cottonwood.  Rudy is open 24/7, and he has the best coffee on this side”


          Tony asked, “How far is it?”


        “A few miles, downhill all the way,” said Vern.


          About five minutes later they parked next to a Quonset hut shelter with roll up doors on either end. There was a huge pool of bright light around the business next door.  A lighted Sign proclaimed that this was the “Destinations Diner.” The brothers got out and Vern drove away before they could thank him.
          Moments later  they came into the diner. at first it seemed that no one was there, then a smiling Italian with a chef’s cap stepped out of the kitchen.  “Hi,” he said. “I am Rudy Costello, proprietor of this establishment. Sit down and I’ll bring you fresh coffee.”


        “Tony, I studied every inch of the map and our road Bible; I found no mention of this place at all, sure seems strange to me."


        “Gary, don’t worry about it.  We are inside, safe from the cold, and this is the best coffee I’ve had in years.”


        Rudy brought a rather large menu to the Brothers.  “Whom do I have the pleasure of serving on this cold windy night?”


        “Please excuse me, I had no intention of being rude,” said Gary. “My name is Gary Alioto, and this is my younger brother Anthony, we call him Tony.”


        “Where are you from?” asked Rudy.


        “San Francisco,” said Tony, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.


        “Are you any kin to the Alioto restaurateur on Fisherman’s Wharf?”


        “He is our father, right now he is a bit angry that we chose to get out of the family business.  Fishing just isn’t what it used to be, really difficult to earn a living.” When he finished speaking, Gary opened the menu.  “Wow what an assortment!”


        “We try to please everyone who comes through our doors,” said Rudy.


        “I don’t see any prices,” said Tony.”


        “We don’t worry much about money here.”


        The brothers looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders in unison.


        Gary ordered Braciole with angel hair pasta. covered with red sauce, arugula, basil salad and of course more of the delicious coffee.


        Tony ordered fettuccine with clam sauce,  arugula and basil salad, and a refill of coffee.


          When they finished Rudy removed their dishes saying.  We have fresh Cannoli. 


        “I must have died and gone to heaven,” said Tony.


        Rudy just smiled when he put down the Cannoli in front of the two men.


        “Are you ready to see what is on the other side of those doors?” said Rudy gesturing to a set of doors neither of them had seen before. Light poured from the cracks.  Rudy lead the way and both brothers followed him into the light.


        Two days later the frozen bodies were removed from the big orange truck.  A state trooper was with the coroner placed them into large black body bags.  A tow truck arrived to take the tractor to Cheyenne.  Another orange tractor driven by a team would take the load on to Omaha.  The relief driver removed the Road Atlas and the road bible from the cab.  He stood looking to see if either brother had made any notes.  Penciled in the middle of nowhere was Cottonwood.  “You ever heard of Cottonwood?” he said to the trooper.


        "There used to be a Sinclair Bulk Plant there, and a good eating place called Destinations Diner.  It all burned when the bulk plant exploded.  That was back before the interstate t must have been 50 years ago, at least."