I have a slight infatuation with diners. Vinyl booths, jukeboxes, and laminated menus. A place where you can go for a cup of strong black coffee and a slice of pie with real whipped cream. The kind of place where you can sit alone for hours with your thoughts and your newspaper. Diners like that are a dying breed which is why I was so surprised when I found one randomly on the side of the road in the Catskills.
Something about the old-schoolness of it is hauntingly beautiful.