Do you have any idea how many times I've seen this sign? How many times my headlights have illuminated it at midnight, or 1 a.m.....maybe even 2 or 3 a.m? It's incalculable. What's even more amazing, is that I was never alone. There was always a sizable group with me, and it was almost never planned. More than once, there was an entire caravan of no less than 40 people. Very few places have that kind of power. The power to pull you 21 miles away from town, at the latest possible hour, with classes the next morning. It didn't matter. NONE of that mattered once our headlights hit that sign.
I can remember being confused at first. I was a younger lad who had just found his place and his clique at Morehead in the very first days of the 2000 Fall semester. I thought I misunderstood at first, but I hadn't. "A...truck stop? Like, with gas and stuff? Wha...why? Olive Hill?? Where's that??" I thought they were pulling my leg. But they had all been before...just as the elders before them had introduced them, I was now getting the same treatment. I had no clue what I was in for. I had no clue my life was about to change. I had no clue that for the next 5 years, what bonds I would make at those old wooden tables.
The Smokey Valley Truck Stop is a staple of Morehead State University. It isn't even in the same town, but for decades, college students, and of course the locals, have frequented this place with glee and anticipation. Would you drive 20 miles out of the way for dinner? Well, thousands of people have hundreds of times. It's sensational, and I was looking forward to someday getting to share a place that not only has some of the best food I've ever eaten, but a place that me and my crew, along with I'm sure countless others, have a genuine connection to. Note, that I said I WAS looking forward to doing this....until about a month ago...when I got the news.
On October 3rd, 2015, this place will be closing its doors for the final time. Upon hearing this, my heart sank, and I had to literally fight back tears. This isn't the first time we have received this news, either. A fire nearly gutted it in 2003 and it was forced to close for about 6 months, but it survived and bounced back better than ever. In 2012, several of us had gotten word that it was going to close due to an issue regarding the water lines, and which entity had jurisdiction over them. Again the issue was resolved. So this time, we all had hope that maybe, possibly, it was just a rumor with similar details...but no. Not this time. It was real. It was happening.
Upon hearing the news, we gathered those of us who still remained in the general area for one last rendezvous. This wasn't easy. We're in our 30s, we have careers, families, and very little spare time. What once would have been a spur of the moment outing with 30+ people was now, all these years later, reduced to less than 10 of us with 2 weeks of planning. Yay for growing up. But, it still happened. We all drove separately. Alone. It gave each of us time to think about what we were doing, and WHY.
When the above sign finally came into sight, for probably the 500th time, it presented a different feeling than it ever had before. It was very somber...almost hopeless.
But then....once I hit the exit and immediately made that next famous right hand turn, I saw this. I saw why I was here. I suddenly remembered things I thought I had long forgotten. I guess in a way, I had.
Then...there it was. Very rare that I ever saw it in the daytime. But the red shingles were always ever present. The Smokey Valley Truck Stop.
We all met at relatively the same time, give or take 15 minutes. Emotions were mixed, as expected.
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| Even the old crappy CB repair shop was giving me the feels. |
We entered, barely a word spoken, and we just kind of looked around. It was busy, as usual, but it's safe to assume that this time around, it was because word had gotten out about the upcoming closing.
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| These people will later appreciate this picture, I'm sure of it. |
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| So will they. |
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| :) |
If you haven't picked up on it yet, the Smokey Valley Truck Stop looks like...a truck stop. The chairs and tables are made of wood, with a few smaller ones being the exception. The decor is old Americana style, with hutches and plates adorning the walls. The fire of '03 forced a slight remodel, but aside from a few superficial details, most of it still remains the same.
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| "Most", not "all". We've had our fair share of laughter at that one over the years. |
The remainder of my company arrived shortly after I did. We got our 'usual' table. It was surreal to sit there, in the same place where so many meeting and conversations between us had once taken place. we greeted one another, hugs and handshakes all around, when the server came over and handed out the menus.
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| Happiness soon took over. Wait...what's that say towards the bottom? |
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| Ohh yeah, that's right. This place is so good it once made it on the Food Network. Seriously. Give it a watch. |
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| THE greatest pancakes, omelets, and gravy n biscuits known to mankind. |
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| THE greatest everything else known to mankind. |
Ordering is often difficult in general, but how on Earth do you decide what to get for your final meal? I felt like I was on death row. I half expected the waitress to bring me a cigarette and a blindfold. I've had nearly everything on this menu at some point, and there is absolutely no possible way to make a choice like this. do I go with breakfast? Those pancakes that I've shamelessly stuffed my face with countless times? The Taco Salad? The world famous Smokey Valley Burger? Could I even finish it if I tried it (again)? No, my friends. None of those would do. After much thought and consideration, I came to the conclusion that only one meal would do. Only one combination of culinary perfection could possibly be chosen under these circumstances.
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| I think I'm going to cry. |
There's no doubt what so ever that this, in all it's glory, is my all time favorite thing to get at the truck stop. I've ordered it more times than anything else. As amazing as the other meals are, this one will put a smile on my face every time. EVERY time. What you're looking at here, are two hot dogs, on fresh soft yet toasted buns, with a home made chili sauce that has yet to be rivaled by anyone. I mean ANYONE. Skyline be damned. Gold Star can suck it. This is the real deal. This is in-house, top secret recipe, made Guy Fereri from Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives do cartwheels in the parking lot, out of this world stuff. I have no earthly idea what's in it. I've asked in the past, and they wont tell me. It's a combination of hearty and sweet with a hint of bold onion-y spice. It's perfection on an all beef wiener, (which I'm pretty sure is deep fried). To the left, you see something that is just as much a staple of this place as the aforementioned Smokey Valley Burger itself. Those are fried potato skins topped with cheese and bacon, with a side of house made ranch dressing. Real cheese, real ranch, and real bacon. Not Fakeon. BACON. And if you've never had fried potato skins before, then do yourself a favor. Go RIGHT NOW to the nearest place that you can get a potato. Go to Walmart, Costco, your mom's house, that awesomely weird gas station down the road that sells chicken feed and that for some reason has a box of garden taters on sale in the middle of the floor for 25 cents a piece, wherever you can get one, go get one. Bring it home, peel it, and throw the skins into a deep fryer for about 5 minutes. Your life will change drastically. They wont be nearly as good as they are here, though. We need to be realistic.
That was only what I ordered. What did everyone else order, you may ask?
You knew that was coming. If you're at all familiar with this place, you know that actual odds of someone in a group NOT ordering the Smokey Valley Burger are astronomical. It was a given. Oh and look, more tater skins!
Some home cooking just hit the mix. Salisbury Steak, garden green beans, buttered sweet corn, and homemade mashed potatoes and gravy. Holy cow. Literally. Anything else?
Oh. Ohh dear. What?
I don't even know. This isn't on the menu. I don't even know what it would be called even if it was on there. Chris, you're a brave soul. Let us know if you survived.
Anywho, back to my food. The hot dogs, as I said, are on a fresh soft bun, with the actual wiener, I think, deep fried. I know that sounds weird, and the more health conscious of you reading this probably just hyperventilating. But, trust me. It's wonderful. It gives it a good 'snap' when you bite in to it.
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| See? Look at it. LOOK. |
I can't say anything more about the chili sauce that I haven't already. I can tell you this though. It's the perfect topper to this hot dog. The combination of flavors in your mouth when you bite into this is the sort of thing that poets muse about, and causes great minds to wax philosophic. It's that good.
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| LOOK AT IT. |
And those bacon-cheese tater skins I was gushing about earlier?
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| Honestly, what else can you say. |
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| Nothing. Nothing else can be added. |
We chowed down. We laughed. We told stories of yesteryear. We reminisced about friends who have passed on. We talked about life. Death. All things in between. We talked about where we are now, and where we once were. We talked about where we will be in the future, long after this place falls to the ground. We talked about adventures and misadventures, midnight excursions to Lockeegee Rock, to the Mushroom Mines, to the Cave Run Spillway. We talked about how all those things inevitably ended us right back here. We did it just like we always did before. At our table.
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| All the while "Jack and Diane" and "Chip Away at the Stone" played for the 11 millionth time on this jukebox. |
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| And while Donkey Kong rolled his 11 millionth barrel down the ramp. |
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| And while Chris ATE THE WHOLE THING. |
We pondered on dessert...for about 5 seconds. Then we realized we were dumb for pondering because of course we were getting dessert.
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| Ladies and Gentlemen...the Smokey Valley Hot Fudge Brownie. |
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| I could eat two...but I wont. |
This bad boy is a fresh baked chocolate brownie, topped with shaved (yes shaved) real vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, steaming hot fudge, and a maraschino cherry. It's as good as it sounds, and it's as good as it looks. This is another perennial favorite of this place, and it's near impossible to avoid getting one. Or, at least a bite of someone's, if you're already stuffed.
We sat there for nearly 3 hours. None of us wanted to pull ourselves away, and bid farewell to a place that means so much to all of us, and to many more who unfortunately couldn't make it on this final adventure with us. They were very much missed. As we continued to trade stories of past and present, of jobs, of children, of friends departed, I couldn't help but to look back on things and simply smile. Why else were we here if not to do so? We've understood for many years now that this was more than just a 'truck stop' off the interstate in the middle of nowhere. It's never been a question, really. We all have a deep, almost spiritual connection with the very table we were sitting, and to the very walls holding the place up. That's rare. That's special. That's the magic only a true college experience could possibly bring about all those years ago. Perhaps we were all there, at that moment, for a greater reason. Perhaps we weren't. I do know, with confidence, that once we exit those doors, we're forever leaving behind a pivitol part of who we are.
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| Of who we were. |
I'm not even going to bother with the typical breakdown, or overall evaluation like I've done with my previous reviews. There's no rating system in existence that can do this place justice. No arbitrary number system that can quantify what we've experienced here over the years. I'm not even sure if college students still frequent this place as they once did. I honestly have no clue. If they don't; if for some reason this place has been lost in translation over the years to the younger generation, I urge them to take an evening and make the trek out there. I don't care how busy you are, or what you have planned. Because right now, at this point, only one thing is certain.
The clock is ticking.
