Looks Like I Picked the Wrong Day to Stop Sniffing Tabasco Sauce
Mile 143, Denny’s, Highway 198 Off I-5
We made the mistake of having a formal sit-down breakfast at Denny’s three miles downwind from a massive cattle farm from which the manure was so potent, every time someone swung open the two sets of doors at the restaurant, the odor quickly hit us, 50 feet away. In desperation, I resorted to inhaling Tabasco sauce. The smell left us for good by the time the minivan made it to Bakersfield—100 miles later.