Key City Diner

It was a rainy day in western New Jersey. I stopped for lunch in Phillipsburg, an area of the state where it seems obligatory to have at least three diners per town. I parked and scuttled between raindrops into the Key City Diner, opened in 1955, noticing a large hearse parked a few spots away. I was seated in a booth in an extension to the original train car design. As I perused the menu, a table of three men, dressed in suits, were conversing with a man and his wife. From the tone and topics of the conversation, it was easy to deduce that there were all long-term locals to the area. The two engaged in the most conversation was the oldest of the three men and the husband at the next table. They sat with their backs to one another, glancing over their right shoulder as they spoke, telling stories as they finished their lunch.

One of the conversations that drew a lot of comment was the location, in Phillipsburg, of the best place to get hot dogs. The husband said he liked Jimmy’s. To which the youngest of the three men said, “I went once to pick up dogs for him (pointing at the older man) …. I’ll never go again. I needed a shower after I left it was so dirty.”

I soon realized that the hearse belonged to the three men in suits, who had just finished a funeral. They had reminiscences to entertain the locals in the diner. Someone brought up a different mortician whose name I did not catch, who was still living, somewhere near ninety-years old. The younger man said that he had worked for him early in his career and everyday he “put his lunch in the freezer with the bodies.”

After the couple left, two older women came in for a late lunch. One of the women, who did not look well, took the vacant seat at the table with the three morticians. She confessed that there was a cemetery in town that, when she visited, she always said, “Merry Christmas. I miss you all so much.” The younger man said for her not to worry, he did the same thing all the time.

Road Trip: U.S. Route 6 (Providence to Hartford)

It was a beautiful summer day in New England; perfectly blue sky, warm but not too hot. The scenic route from the capitol of Rhode Island to the capitol of Connecticut leads through the heart of southern New England and interesting terrain. The trip, which is about 77 miles, could be done much faster, of course. Yet, time and weather beckoned for a contemplative examination of the route and scenery.

Soon after exiting the freeway onto Route 6 proper, in the outskirts of Providence, more local businesses are noticed. Mom and Pop hotels, such as the Bel-Air Motel and the Stone House Motor Inn, which are in varying states of repair can be found along the road. Dairy bars, as well as pizza shops, dot the little towns and villages along the way. Of course this is New England, so there is a requisite Dunkin Donut in every hamlet and neighborhood; however, there are not a great many chains in the rural areas.

A recent visitor from Britain said that he was surprised how much of the northeast was forested. One of the reasons I love Alfred Hitchcock’s film, The Trouble with Harry, is how beautifully the forests of Vermont in the autumn are filmed. People tend to focus on the shoreline of Maine and Cape Cod, or of the major metropolitan areas, when they consider New England. And, I often forget about the abundance of wetlands in the region. Yet the rural areas of New England are enticing.

The total length of Route 6 in Rhode Island is only 26.5 miles. Thus once you leave the metropolitan Providence area there is not much of the road left in the state. Crossing into Connecticut the road becomes much more typical of the rural U.S. routes that lattice the United States.

Unitarian Church, Brooklyn, CT

Unlike its more famous counterpart further south, Brooklyn, Connecticut is a small and rural crossroad village that is prototypical of New England. The village is picturesque, with the Unitarian Church, sitting on the commons, built in 1771 anchoring the center of Brooklyn. The plain and evocative architecture of the town, usually painted white, is so appealing that even local enterprises that are no longer in business, such as the local service station, are still visually appealing.

Service Station in the center of Brooklyn

After leaving Brooklyn, I stopped for lunch at the Aero Diner in North Windham, a restored 1958 diner originally constructed by the Bramsom Engineering Company of Union Bay, NY. The diner began life as the Boulevard Diner of East Hartford, but was restored and moved to its current location in 2005. Although it was a rather late lunch, the diner hosted a typical Saturday afternoon clientele. Several people lingered over their food and desserts chatting about various things. A young man and woman in their twenties, who went to school together, talk about their new houses and families at the counter. A group of four men in their seventies, with four empty stainless steel milkshake cups in the center of the table talked intently when I sat down to order my lunch. The four men were still there, chatting away, when I left.

Back on the road again, I saw my first sign that indicated the distance to Hartford: 32 miles. It was a reminder to me at how there were not a lot of signs to spoil the view.

Aero Diner, North Windham, CT

I stopped for a short walk on the Hop River State Park Trail in Andover. The railroad track has been replaced by a walking and bike path. I noticed the trail from my car because a relatively new bridge on the trail crosses route 316 within a few hundred feet of route 6. Also at the intersection of Route 6 and 316 once stood the Andover Creamery Company. The creamery utilized the nearby railroad so that local farmers in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century could sell their butter to distant customers across the region.

After my walk, I returned to the car and started west. Soon, U.S. Routes 6 and 44 join together and travel together through Manchester, before joining I-84 into Hartford.