There's something wonderful about 24-hour places. You're always welcome. At 3am until the end of time you can walk in, buy a donut or cappuccino, and give your money to a real person. If you're the kind of person who sometimes can't sleep without a TV on, and to whom the stillness and silence of the late late hours are thunderous, you might relate. A 24-hour place is like a nightlight on an otherwise dark and lifeless plain.
One of life's hidden pleasures is a middle of the night stop at a giant all-in-one gas station in west Texas. You feel as if you're far from everywhere and you might never get back. When the man behind the counter greets you, he smiles as if there's an understanding. His eyes say, "Yep, here we are. No point gettin' worked up." Just like all bowling alleys seem trapped in the year 1976, west Texas is stuck in 1962.
But the most wonderful thing about a gas station in the middle of nowhere is you can get everything you need for a few bucks. When you're driving 1100 miles to see a relative in need, and you have only gas money plus forty bucks to your name, when you stop at the twelve-pump Texaco mini-mart just west of Topeka, Kansas, you can get all the food and drink you want plus cool sunglasses. The bathroom is clean, a giant cup of water is free, and you can load up on Nacho Cheese Combos, bottled frappuccinos, apples, bananas, vanilla wafers, chicken sandwiches and M&Ms. When you walk in the doors the world is your oyster. How much do really need anyway?
Technically this is all you need:
a 1992 Nissan Sentra (2dr XE), a Roland VS-1680, 1 pr Mackie HR824 monitors, a CAD/Equitek E-100, a CAD C400S, one Shure SM57, one Shure SM58, a Boss GT-5, a 1972 Rogers Powertone 4pc drum kit (Fullerton made), an Alesis QS-8, an Aria M-38 (w/Bigsby-style trem), a Yamaha FG-30LTD acoustic, a Danelectro electric 12-string, someone in your field you deeply admire who is accessible, a Sabian 20" AA el Sabor ride, a self-inflating mattress pad, a Paiste 2002 18" power crash, Zildjian 14" New Beats, a 1987 Yamaha kick pedal, Vater 2Bs, Vater wire brushes, Bret Billings and his dobro and harp, a Mexican Fender Jazz, a windscreen made from an old girlfriend's pantyhose and a wire hanger, a generic SCSI drive, a clipboard and typing paper, one song a week, the feeling you'll explode, a bandsaw, a small-branch clipper, a friend's old 3hp push-mower, a plastic four-wheel wheelbarrow, one summer working in a nursing home, a hat with a wide, low brim, three sets of long johns, a plunger, two large wrenches, a decent electric drill, a circular saw and a jigsaw, a fondness for any pet, a Leatherman, a tent that sleeps three and is waterproof, the ability to seek and digest criticism, a 40' hose w/spray gun, work gloves, an oil pan and funnel, a TV that picks up the Simpsons, a loud stereo (pawn shops are best), three pairs of jeans, the need to wander, one good pair of shoes, a baking stone and a hammer.