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At one time, the only place to go on a Saturday night was Dan's Diner up by the freeway – or ‘The Dude’s Joint’, as us kids all called it. By eight, the place would be packed, jukebox pounding, drinks flowing non-stop, and dollar bills queuing to be crammed into the cash registers. There were other places to go of course; but the ‘Joint’ was the 'in' place. Dan was on our wavelength and, besides, his parking lot was hidden behind trees and high shrubs, which meant that the evening might only begin in the bar – if you know what I mean.

We seldom drove away before one in the morning. Most of us lost our virginity there. I know I did; to some pesky old boy from Maine; a good for nothing trucker who never did come back with that ring he talked about.

I was born and raised in the town. It’s a church community; Bible Belt, people say: all honest God-fearing folk who get together every Sunday to sing his praises. We were brought up to love our fellow man – well some, you’ll understand – and have respect for property, the other god in our lives...