When I was in high school (early 70’s) and when I was home from college, used to be a truck stop called the Dixie Boy, that was on the way to my dog driving club. My buddy and I would get up a little early, so we could stop there for some breakfast. The waitresses were mostly young, and for the most part, sort of attractive. They were exceptionally friendly to us young guys. Food was so-so, but it was the only place between home and the club. Always wondered about the help there. It was not near any town that had more than 10 residents, so having young, friendly waitresses seemed a little strange, but we never though much of it.
Years later, after the truck stop had closed down, I was schooled about the Dixie Boy. They sold fuel, amphetamines, and food downstairs. They ran a cathouse upstairs. It catered mostly to truckers. I was young, green, and naive. It never crossed my youthful mind that semi-attractive, friendly, waitresses working at 5:00 in the morning in the truck stop in the middle of nowhere were anything more than waitresses.
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