Pink Cadillac Post Script

Due to a broken camera I was unable to take pictures of this experience. I intend to go back to the Pink Cadillac Diner this weekend (and hopefully my camera will be fixed by then) to truly document how wonderful and unique this place truly is.

Pink Cadillac Dinner

As you may or may not know, it has been raining to beat the band here in Lexington for the past four days now and as I sat in my room a few days ago, hoping that I wouldn't start growing mold spores, I realized there was a pit deep in my stomach, a pit that could not be filled with any old Twinkie or bowl of pasta or glass of chocolate milk... I needed the greasy, wholesome goodness of comfort food. There are some days where everyone needs a little edible pick-me-up to weather the winds of life, and Rockbridge County. For me, it's a grilled cheese with bacon sandwich. Having been hooked on these since childhood I have scoped out every diner and deli on the eastern seaboard (not every one, but at least all in the Tri-State) trying to find a place that will do the sandwich justice. In Lexington, Pink Cadillac Diner wins hands down.

A bubblegum pink house nestled in the rolling hills of southwestern Virgina, the Pink Cadillac Diner not only caters to those looking to take a trip down memory lane, but those seeking out delicious diner food and Hershey's ice cream. The interior is a technicolor-on-acid version of Al's Diner from Happy Days, replete with cardboard cutouts of Elvis and 1950s memorabilia. Outside, there is a baby pink, powder shine, Cadillac parked to the right of the building. To the left, the gravel parking lot is home to an eight foot tall King Kong, holding a miniature airplane in his skyward reaching hand. While his paint might be fading and peeling, he completes the scene that is the Pink Cadillac Diner.

It was on a cold, rainy day earlier this week that I made the ten mile trek out to the Pink Cadillac, searching for the perfect grilled cheese and bacon sandwich. The minute I opened the front door, I was greeted by the smell of fresh french fries, bacon, hamburgers, and all things delicious in this world. My server, a lovely older woman with a retro waitress outfit on took my order. Within minutes I had it: the one thing I wanted most in the world, at least for the next few hours. Sitting in front of me was my mecca of cuisine: perfectly buttery crisp white bread still warm from the grill, delicious white American cheese melting out of the sides, and in the center, a perfect row of crispy bacon. I take the first bite and it is delectable; the perfect mingling of salty and crunchy and buttery and greasy, rolling around on my eager palate. I'm in heaven. 

Post Script

P.S. I once visited the tunnel at night, but that was a little too much excitement for me.

Poor House Road

In the past two years I have spent at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia, I have come to find that this quiet little college town nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains is home to many curiosities. Route 11, which used to be the main road, prior to the construction of Interstate 81, features kitschy attractions such as the Pink Cadillac Diner and Foam Henge, yes, a life sized replica of Stone Henge made entirely from foam. Yet with these tourist traps comes a historic and sometimes macbre side of Lexington,namely, the Poor House Road Tunnel. Now featured on ghost hunting websites such as Haunted America and Vamp Investigations, the tunnel is one of my favorite places to shoot film, preferably in the day time. Carved out of the side of a hill, the Tunnel led to Lexington's Poor House that once existed in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It was also the host to train tracks when trains ran between Lexington and Staunton. Local lore claims that if you visit the tunnel at night you can hear the sound of a train or childrens' voices beckoning you to hurry up and catch the approaching train. There have also been stories that lynchings occurred from the top of the tunnel, though there is little evidence to support this.  Today, the Tunnel has an otherworldly feel. The very narrow, somewhat paved road yields to old cobblestones when approaching. Old trees bend their branches around the tunnel's entrance like gatekeepers into another era. The river that runs along the side of the tunnel gives off a feel of wilderness isolation. The narrowness of the tunnel, in conjunction with the river creates the perfect setting for whistling wind and other generally eerie noises one would not want to encounter alone or at night. Maybe it is the ghost stories, or perhaps it is simply my own skittishness but I never feel quite at ease, or alone, when I visit. This out of element, slightly on edge feeling takes me out of my comfort zone. While this might not sound like a pleasant experience, I have found that letting my imagination run wild has helped me with creativity in my photos, and also letting go a little. The eeriness sometimes brings on a feeling of [almost] relaxing escape from the red brick, white columns, and infinite seersucker found on W&L's campus. Though these are all things I too love, it is nice to know there is a place not too far away where I feel out of my element and in another world altogether.