They pulled into the truck stop, a few miles shy of Barstow.  It was big and obviously popular, lots of cars as well as the trucks.  There was the diner, of course, and a small store, and sleeper rooms to rent for the convenience of the truckers.  Spike wrapped his arm around Raven as they walked in the diner.<br/><br/>It was retro, though in this case it simply meant the place hadn't bothered to change much since the 50s.  They slid into one of the booths, with the formica table and the tableside jukebox console.  A waitress, dressed in a pink uniform and chewing gum noisily, dropped off two menus and two glasses of water as she passed without bothering to say anything.  She was hustling, as all the waittresses were.  Too many customers, not enough help.<br/><br/>Spike chuckled.  "Food's good, don't worry about the service.  It's all American comfort food.  Everything's worth getting, but the pies are legendary."