> I will tell you about two wacky types of asphalt with fascinating audio properties, and I will also tell you about the single nastiest fast food chain anywhere in the United States. [...] Let me tell you, if the promise of an analysis of asphalt does not immediately intrigue you, well, you can't say I didn't try.

Ooh. I'm always noticing things like this.

> The coolest interstate of all time, though it makes for an uneventful trip, is I-80. As I said, it bisects Pennsylvania across the middle. What's great about I-80 is that it's the closest thing to a road drawn with a ruler in the entire eastern time zone, and -- here's the best bit -- THERE IS NOTHING ON IT. There are no major cities on I-80 in Pennsylvania. There are just enough small towns to provide food, gas, and lodging for travellers, but that's it. It's the biggest road in the state, yet it does not deign to go to places like Philadelphia or Pittsburgh or Allentown.

I think we've just discovered why many roads are not like this. Mostly, they go to or near cities, which tend to be built here, there, and everywhere rather than in a straight line, and of course, there are the larger inclines and bodies of water that are easier to build around than through.

> So it's great for long-distance travelling. But the most remarkable thing about I-80 -- and, in fact, most interstates in Pennsylvania -- is that the asphalt does not come from the natural world. First off, it has a bit of a reddish tint to it that is only visible when the light is just right. It is not uncommon to see the road through the windshield as gray, and the road through the rear-view mirror as rusty red. Or vice versa.
>
> But it's the sound of the road that's what's truly bizarre. Drive on it, and it sounds like a 747 is flying ten feet above the car, and it is LOUD. The instinctual reaction is to think, "Um, something wacky is going on with my tires, and maybe I'd better slow down before they blow up." So you slow down, and then it sounds like the 747 is LANDING ON YOU.
>
> When Pennsylvania roads aren't airplane asphalt, they are concrete, which is great when weather has accentuated the seams. Ka-gung...ka-gung...ka-gung...ka-gung. It would be cool if the speed limits were posted in seconds per ka-gung instead of miles per hour. "CAUTION: MINIMUM ONE SECOND PER KA-GUNG."

Hmm. Yeah, ka-gung sounds familiar, but I guess I've never ridden over the airplane asphalt.

> Anyway, during the week, we tried a few different food chains unheard of in New England, and I describe them to you now.
>
> Bob Evans. There is a Bob Evans every fifty feet on the highways in Ohio. Bob Evans restaurants are more common there than McDonald's and fruit flies put together. It's a breakfast place, famous told us later, sort of a more upscale Denny's.

There's one in my city. I haven't been there in a long time, however, so I couldn't say what it's like here.

> Steak and Shake. Steak and Shake is the rule. It turns out that this place serves steak and shakes. Their burgers are steakburgers, allegedly made of better quality meat, but in practice scarcely discernible from standard fast food burgers. It was good though, and their french fries are, by the textbook definition of the word, CUTE, because they are small. Yes, the french fries are small, and not only that, the straws are big. This inevitably led to seeing if the fries were small enough to fit into the straws. This inevitably led to a french fry taking a dive (unintentionally, believe it or not) into a cookies-n-cream milkshake. The fry was rescued, thanks to the physical laws that make straws work in the first place.

Hmm. A Straw-Assisted Fry Dip. Y'know, most people just dip with their fingers. ;-)

> That was Leen, not me. My shake was a banana shake, and it was just about the best shake I've ever had. Steak and Shake shakes are delicious, but they only come in two sizes: large and larger. There's a kid's size, but you have to be a kid to get it, and apparently being a kid at heart doesn't count. We went to Steak and Shake a total of four times last week, three times to get meals along with the shakes.

We have one here, although I've never been to it.

> This brings me to the single nastiest fast food place I have ever eaten at. It might even be the nastiest food I've ever eaten in my life, period. This place is called White Castle.

As far as I know, we just have the burgers, sold in boxes in the frozen food section.

> In retrospect, it should have tipped us off when famous called White Castle burgers "sliders" -- because they slide right through you. But, see, what famous neglected to tell us is that they apparently slide out the way they go in. White Castle burgers are mini-burgers. [...] It's not like I'm picky about cheeseburgers. I eat at McDonald's and Wendy's semi-regularly, after all. But by no stretch of the imagination could this be considered fit for human consumption. [...] Four entire burgers and most of a fifth were thrown unceremoniously in the trash. As a rule, I do not throw away food, and I did not break this rule then.

I haven't tried the frozen version, and I don't think I will be. If I happen to, and find out it's really good, I'll say something.

> So, you're probably wondering about that other kind of asphalt, right? It was what the parking lot of the Marriott on the north side of Lexington was paved with. (Yes, the Marriott; alas, K was not there.)

Such a disappointment.

> This particular type of asphalt causes tires to squeal on the turns, no matter how slow you are going. The first time this happened, Leen was driving so slowly around a corner that the speedometer needle was essentially pointing at zero, but the squealing sounded EXACTLY like it would have if she had taken a sharp turn at 80 on a normal road, and this time, dear readers, I am not making use of hyperbole for the sake of humor. It really sounded that loud and that crazy. I thought it was our tires, worn down to nothing, but she took one turn after another in the parking lot, looking for a space, each time slower than the last, and each turn accompanied by more crazy squealing that would have made the Dukes of Hazzard proud. After we parked, I inspected the tires. No, they still have good tread on them. But later I noticed other cars driving through the parking lot, and all of them were squealing on the turns. The hotel had valet parking. I can only imagine what it must be like for an arriving guest to hear the valet peeling out behind him as he ascends the steps to the front doors.

Oh yeah. I wonder if there are any who would take advantage of that?

*guest leaves car, ascends steps; valet actually goes fast enough to peel out on a normal road*

GUEST: Excuse me, but your valet just peeled out in my car!

EMPLOYEE: It's the asphalt, sir.

Nyperold