Motorcycles Bartenders F-Bombs

 Everybody knows the Johnny Cash song about Winnemucca, but I rode into town looking for gas, hot off Interstate 80. I'd just filled up and was drinking bottled water with Rose at an outdoor table overlooking the campers and cars clogging around the pumps. Young miss big swinging hips sways on past, and puts something in through the open window of her old crappy car, then sits down at our table with a bottle of iced tea. Nice cleavage. Sweaty. Rose gets up and walks away.  "Is it gonna rain?" I ask.  There were clouds, there were. And she proceeds to tell me how she hopes not, because she's moving to Carson City, and she's lived all her life in Winnemucca.  And she's not gonna drive in Carson City, (she'll make her boyfriend do it), because of the traffic.  The Boyfriend has family there, but "we're not gonna live together," oh no.  And her daddy has a lot of junk cars on the property, and that embarrasses her, and she's gonna get a new j

 Route 666. The number of "the beast," so famous, in fact, that New Mexico, Utah and Colorado changed the road's designation to an unoffensive, politically correct 491. People used to steal the signs…there were accidents, folks saw apparitions, packs of wild dogs, and flaming trucks doing 130 MPH, down the center line. Florida might have one, Texas and Ohio might also, and I just recently saw a sign for "666 Hogback Road," in Virginia, off Interstate 81. But  Pennsylvania has a beautiful stretch of road, designated ROUTE 666. It's rural and runs through the Allegheny Forest, in the western section of the state. Some of the signs, I noticed, were mounted pretty high on the pole, probably to deter thievery, and I didn't see any flaming trucks or roving packs of dogs. Get there before they steal the signs.