Reinventing Mike Lake Read Online Free PDF Page A

cigarettes or pipes.  As I went inside one of the smokers, a woman in her 50’s followed me in and went behind the counter.  I ordered three sandwiches, two for me, and one for Bahama, and a large sweet tea. 
                  The woman washed her hands for about a total of two seconds before preparing my food, which I suppose was better than nothing.  It’s my guess that she wouldn’t have even done that if a health inspector hadn’t been by in the last couple of weeks.
                  Her cleanliness, or lack thereof, reminded me of a day when I worked at a pizza joint during college.  We were honestly a pretty clean establishment, but one day my boss told me that a health inspector was coming by and we would have to wash our hands, with soap and water, between every pizza we took out of the oven and placed in the box.  Thankfully they came during a mid-week afternoon, one of the slower times, but I still remember my hands being raw after my shift was up.  The woman taking my order was washing her hands as if the inspector had been gone for at least a few days, and in a few more customers, they would be lucky if she gave her hands a wipe on her greasy jeans.
                  While I waited for my order, I got a chance to look around the steamy restaurant that featured zero air-conditioning.  To my surprise many celebrities had enjoyed the eatery, including the late Dale Earnhardt, his son Junior, and George W. Bush.  Each of those three men, and a few others, had signed an autograph picture of themselves, adding a note about how good the food was.  I chuckled to myself making a joke inside my head saying, “Of course they wrote they liked the food, they were probably no more than a few feet away from a man wielding a huge hatchet while cooking up the next batch of pork.” 
                  Just as I was done laughing at my own joke, they called my order.  It was actually cooler outside than inside, and I wanted to get Bahama out of the car, so I looked for a spot to eat outside.  About 50 yards in front of the building I noticed a few lawn chairs, so after scooping Bahama out of the car, I planted myself out in the field, and dug into my first sandwich.
                  I don’t have the meat-eating resume that my uncle has, but it truly was the best barbeque I ever had.  Between my first and second sandwich, I threw Bahama her sandwich, and without chewing, it was gone in two seconds.  I was so engrossed in my sandwich that I didn’t realize the imminent thunderstorm approaching.  Around my last bite the skies opened up, and I was drenched in a few seconds.  Bahama, who doesn’t mind the rain, continued staring at me in hopes of the last bite.  Anxious to get out of the rain, I made her dream come true, tossing the soggy bite into her waiting jaws.  After running to the porch to throw away my trash, I ran to the car, Bahama enjoying the excitement every step of the way.
                  My happy stomach must have caused me to doze off for a few minutes, because when I woke up the rain had all but stopped.  A quick view of my GPS showed me that we were just over an hour away from Florida.  It was still only late afternoon, and I felt fine thanks to my unplanned nap, so I thought heading into Florida was as good of a plan as any.  Bahama gave a nodding approval, and we were off.
     

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                  Apparently I had too much sweet tea at the “Baby Pig,” because by the time I hit Jacksonville, right over the state line, I had to stop at the first rest area.  Bahama enjoys every stop of the car, whether you’ve been driving eight hours, or if you are in a traffic jam.  Each stop is a potential new adventure for her, not to mention a new place to pee.  This stop led to an adventure, but it was for me, not her. 
                  By habit, every time I get in and out of the car I check for my wallet,