Geez, what’s a guy got to do to get a hot dog in the middle of the night on I-5 in Cali north of Sacramento? We were southbound and stopped at several of my usual haunts to find they were all in “hot dog shift change” – that is, the griddles were empty or being cleaned. I was seconds too late at a Pilot Truck stop where as I walked in the door, I saw the grill lady taking the last wrinkled “I’ve been cooking for 8 hours” shriveled up dog off the grill and plop it in the trash.
“Wait!” I cried, but I was too late.
Finally at the butt crack of dawn, at an exit ramp off I-505, stopping to pee the dog, the gas station had just started to put OUT their morning supply of sausages, and I scored one, not even caring it hadn’t been heated all the way through.
Hell, they are smoked, right, so it’s not like you’re going to catch anything from eating a cold one!
It hit the spot. We were less than an hour away from our breakfast appointment, but we frequently need to eat on the way out to meal, just to avoid the embarrassment of overdoing at restaurants.