diners club: kingman

if you ever plan to motor west

Rutherford’s Family Diner, Route 66.

Charmless atmosphere, half-finished décor as if they’d started with grand ideas and lost interest. Framed James Dean jigsaw puzzle hanging crookedly. A rock wall trying hard to look like flagstone. Black-and-white checkerboard floor. Burgundy leatherette booths, chipped Formica tabletops.

But: diner food, no question. Short stacks and grilled ham. Rugged coffee that tastes burnt. A gnat in the water tumbler. Onion rings thick as donuts. Baseball on a transistor radio. Old grease and plastic flowers in the hallway.

Next door, a motel advertising a free fax machine.

High desert and everything coated in sandy grit.