Stacy McCain makes a side trip to Hell and manages to survive the trip and tell us about it.
Also, there are Republican voters in Hell.
For some reason, Hell didn’t register on the Garmin GPS system, so Vinnie gave me another address in nearby Pinckney, and off we went, down I-75 then west via I-296 to I-96 about 35 miles before we exited the freeway at US-23, and then finally began the fun part of the trip: Two-lane backroads through the snowy night.
Freeway driving is boring, but at least Michiganders drive fast. The freeway speed limit is 70 and you don’t dare get in the left lane doing less than 80. Rush-hour on the interstates around Detroit is genuinely rush hour. Folks in the Motor City drive like they’re qualifying for a NASCAR race, and if you don’t want to drive fast, you’d better stay off the freeway. (Rick Santorum sponsored a Ford in the Daytona 500 — smart move.)
A Diner on the Road to Hell
Meanwhile, we continued on our way to Hell. Once we’d left the highway and began navigating the backroads, Vinnie expressed an appetite for small-town diner cuisine. In particular, he was craving country fried steak and gravy. I’d eaten two McDonald’s cheeseburgers before leaving my hotel, but Vinnie’s description of small-town diner food in western Michigan was tempting, and everyone else in the car was hungry. So we re-programmed the GPS with the address of the Pinckney Diner, and arrived there in a few minutes, turning left off East Main Street onto South Howell Street, where a sign pointed the direction to Hell, three miles away.
Kind of reminds me of my trip to Loafer’s Glory, North Carolina. We had to go through Relief to get there and cross the Toe River on a curvy, hilly mountain road.