Dad liked to drive from the Detroit area to Jeffersonville, Indiana using Hwy 3. In 1957, in the middle of the night, he parked at a bar/restaurant. (Mom asleep) Stay in the car, he said. He left, but I needed to go—badly. I snuck in the closed restaurant side and found the restroom—flooded, unusable. Dad came out of the bar, I told you not to come in. I pointed to the restroom. He drove out of town, and I used a roadside tree.
Flash forward to 2013. With some other people, I went to Linda’s Log Cabin bar and restaurant, Vernon Indiana, Hwy 3. The outside looked familiar, but this was daytime. We went to the restaurant side, but I still wasn’t sure. I found the restroom, and recognized it, though it was clean and dry. Memories came back. I still didn’t go on the bar side. Dad said not to.
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