An ode to the roadside rest
- col-teri-stein
- June 15, 2023
- 579
Before there was a fast-food restaurant or strip mall at every major intersection, there was no choice but the ever-scenic and odorous roadside rest area for people on the go who had to go and eat.
Since Joe’s grandmother lived in the Lakeside/Marblehead area on Lake Erie, we visited the five roadside rests we passed along scenic Route 250 multiple times over the years.
These rest areas were a joy for the most part with a rustic area for picnic tables, but the downside was the ever-unpopular pit toilets that are only for emergencies, and most had not even a curtain to keep you from getting more closely acquainted than you’d like with anyone who happened in.
Really, those pit toilets were gross. I’m glad I never lost anything in one. I feel bad for the person who did. You know there had to be at least one poor, unfortunate soul who met that fate. Someone could have lost a purse or a ring. I might decide to cut my losses right there and not go after the item. Besides the obvious, there could have been anything in there from dead bodies to ginormous spiders.
The rustic, old-fashioned hand pump that brought up the coldest water to wash your hands in was a satisfaction. Your hard work was immediately rewarded as the clear liquid gushed from the spigot. You actually needed two people to work these effectively, one to pump while the other made use of the water.
One time after a visit to Grandma’s, we were bringing Grandma back home with us for a visit. Grandma insisted she make sandwiches so we wouldn’t have to stop anywhere to eat. Grandma was frugal, and she cooked the best meals. You could walk in the door unannounced and, in no time, get a great meal. We usually did go unannounced, because if Grandma knew the time we were to arrive and we weren’t there by that time, we were in danger of Grandma calling the State Patrol to have an APB put out on us.
So we were on our way south down Route 250. We got a late start and decided to eat at the first rest area we came to. Don’t ask me where that is. I’m not sure. It’s in the middle of some farmland. We had a delightful lunch with Grandma as we found a picnic table near the parking area.
Little did we realize how lucky we were on that trip because later we took some of our young nephews on a day trip to the lake. On our way back, we had our sandwiches packed and decided to recreate this idyllic picnic.
We only made one mistake. To make it easier on everyone who was surely going to make use of the facilities and to keep the youngsters in sight, we decided on a table closer to the pit toilets. In fact, we happened to be downwind of said toilets.
We were happily munching on our sandwiches when a breeze swept south over the pit toilets and across our picnic table. At the same time, I took a deep breath. What’s that? I looked at Joe. Our eyes met in horror as we realized our error.
It was too late to move though. Other smarter travelers already filled the north-side picnic tables. We finished quickly and, in future stops, never picked a table without considering wind direction first.
One of my favorite rest area stories was a trip when Joe and I were taking my grandmother, aka Gram, to the Cleveland airport for her annual trip to Arizona to avoid Ohio winters.
I was driving the first leg of the trip because Joe hadn’t slept well the night before and was napping in the back seat. We stopped at this wonderful, colossal pit toilet rest area north of Canton somewhere on I-77 to trade places. Gram and I were smart enough to stay in the car.
Joe stumbled out of the back seat, and because those things weren’t clearly marked, he made his way directly into the women’s side. Luckily, we were the only car in the parking lot. We were going to yell at him, but he was already out of sight. Gram and I just cracked up with laughter, and later, of course, we pointed out the mistake to Joe and everyone else we saw for the next year. And I’m still doing it.
Unfortunately, roadside rests are becoming a thing of the past. Now when we travel, especially on Route 250, we always point out where the rest areas were. It’s sad they aren’t there anymore because there are so many memories there. They were an easy stop off the road if needed, but I’m sure you can guess the one thing no one will miss about them. Hold your breath.