Homeward Bound

So because of my road trip last week, the company was gracious enough to give me a couple days off. These are days that are much appreciated. I decided to do a road trip of my own. Unbeknownst to some people, I headed North, leaving the OC for the UC. (Utah County for those who aren't in the loop...duh).

Most people who know me to even the slightest degree, know that I have somewhat of a unique drive to try foods that can only be labeled as "new", "different" or "scary". In this category of "scary", it is common knowledge that I have consumed a wide variety of staples, from Twinkies of various flavors to "Self-Heating" Lasagna. One of my guilty pleasures in this category would be the Gas Station Hot Dog. I am sure you are all familiar with this particular road snack: fine tubes of "meat" that have been on a never-ending roll across those stainless steel, heated rollers since the first Bush was in office. The buns are typically found below the meat heating device by a wide assortment of storage means. Some places will keep their buns wrapped in the plastic bag and store it in a metal box that claims "Fresh and Hot". Others will adorn them in fancy wrappings of foil and color, thus ensuring the "freshness" value. Personally I prefer to wrap my buns in foil, as those which are kept in the plastic bag tend to develop a thick condensing effect, and the moisture turns various parts of each bun into a soggy remain of its former self. And it doesn't chafe.

But I digress! Or do I? Perhaps this all leads up to a little road side truck stop off of exit 75 between Las Vegas and Mequite. Here you will find one Sinclair station with half the building festooned with all things gas station and cheap souvenier, and the other half bedecked from floor to ceiling with every imaginable firework ever created. Aisles and aisles of carefully wrapped gun powder, all available right next to a very impressive liquor selection.

Tucked back behind the fireworks and booze, you will find the famous "hot dog roller". This particular joint had three varieties of hot dogs: Regular, Large, and Spicy Hot. I'll give you three guesses to figure out which one I went with.

While you are guessing, I will go on to describe the Spicy Hot Hot Dog that I chose. For condiments I put a small amount of Mayo, (much less than Del Taco pastes into their soft tacos), ketchup, and Chalula Hot Sauce, (for that extra KICK). Oh, and these particular buns were of the foil wrapped variety.

I think the Spicy Hot (which was no more spicy than a dash of black pepper on a baked potato), was a poor choice for several reasons. Taste was not one of them...it was actually pretty decent for road side cuisine. However, the texture left one wanting. (Wanting something else). Imagine a balloon, stuff with hard packed ice cream, and take away the cold. Tough to get through that first layer, but the inner-workings of that barrel of bologna were a soft-chewy center. The after effects, (pronounced "fla-tchew-lay-shun"), could have been lived without.

I really hope no one just ate while reading this.

Anyway, my surprise visit to the north had its effect...maybe a bit too well. People were definately surprised. But it is good to be back in the Promised Land, and I look forward to a couple of relaxing days here in the UC.

Oh...in memorium for the death of one jack rabbit just outside of Cedar, I should probably post his demise. I was cruising on the freeway at a steady, computer-maintained clip, when this rabbit came bounding out into the middle of the road. There was no time to react. At 75 miles per hour, my fine German engineered Passat turned Peter Cotton-tail into Road Pizza. May he rest in peace. Or, may she rest in peace. I just hope there is some rest involved...and it is peaceful.