A trip to the recently stripped Cheyenne found a forlorn sight.
Getting ready to leave our city for Alabama, the diner's signage has been carted away. Some of the windows and glass brick are covered with plywood. Many of the exterior details have been inexplicably peeled off. (By those renegade wall pluckers?)
The swivel stools are decapitated and the sparkly vinyl booths have vanished.
As I walked away, most likely for the last time, another Cheyenne mourner pressed his face to the glass, by the wrecker sign, perhaps remembering big bison burgers and platefuls of souvlaki, how the place used to glitter with grease and life.
See all my Cheyenne pics