Shadrack pulled up beside a chrome and red monstrosity of a motorbike, and got off his own humbler bike, after his mother managed to slide off without falling on her ass. Why she had to wear long skirts, while riding a motorbike, was beyond him. She had changed into her jump hunting outfit, a long, loose skirt of twirling black and a figure hugging red blouse. With her dark hair tucked up under a red kerchief, she looked like the gypsy she was.
The other vehicles in the parking lot were a mixture of pickup trucks and family cars. He looked them over with a critical eye, as they headed in, noting problems as he went. It was not that he was psychic, but that there was quite a lot he could tell just from tire wear and the state of the chassis.
The dinner itself was nothing special from the outside. A neon sign stated that it was Charlie's Dinner, but it might as well have been half a dozen other such dinners he had seen in the past year. It had a rock bed around it, and small scraggly bushes at evenly spaced intervals. As they entered, a chalk board told him that the lunch specials were the Reuben sandwhich, with fries, for $6.95 and the pork roast and sourkraut, with dumplings, for $7.95. The prices were good and he hoped that the food was as well. He wondered why they did not list breakfast specials, but knew he would have the same thing he always had, a full order of hotcakes with a side of bacon on the crispy side. His mother always teased him, saying that he could not eat that way when he hit middle age, but Shadrack was not much worried about the future of his eating habits. He lived in the here and now, when it came time to eat.
The interior was done up in pinks and blues, with swivel stools at the long, low bar and pink backed booths. Each booth had its own miniature jukebox and a larger, real one stood in one corner. A George Strait song was playing at the moment, despite the fact that they were into Yankee territory. The mountain folk of Pennsylvania were as country as any he had met, even in Kentucky.
The two waitresses were both middle aged, tired looking and wearing powder blue uniforms. By their name tags, he could tell that the fake redhead was named Florence and that the brunette was Bridgette. The clientele ran to good old boys, truckers and an occasional business man. Florence walked up to them and spoke. Her voice was gravelly, like his mother's, meaning she probably smoked too. "Hey ya honey. Just the two of you?" She looked past him to his mother.
Soon they were seated at a booth, sipping coffee with cream, and waiting for their orders. His weight conscious mother was always trying to loose weight and had ordered the grapefruit with egg beaters and a paper application. She was working on the application and humming to herself. Shadrack found himself staring out the window, as a blonde girl approached the door of the dinner. He could not help put appreciate her trim waist and swaying hips, as she almost danced along with music from an ipod. He turned his head to get a look at the view of her southern half, as she went by.