On my last trip up-island, I drove past a sight that totally snapped some heartstrings. A trip to Bummerville, I had the misfortune of witnessing the demolition of one of my favourite places—Gerry’s Diner. Gerry’s was the most authentic and charming greasy-spoon truckstop this side of North Dakota. Boasting a killer fleet of employees, a menu packed with perfectly mediocre food, and a collection of Elvis paraphernalia that rivaled my grandpa Bill’s, this place had it all. Free of the manicured and calculated nostalgia of most contemporary diners, Gerry’s was the real deal; the seats were cracked vinyl, the coffee was NOT organic, and the bathroom smelled of urinal pucks and pink soap. This place wasn’t just a refuge from the pretentious world, it was a bomb shelter! A backdrop to some of my fondest memories, and a folksy reminder to always keep it real, Gerry’s Diner will be fondly remembered and sorely missed.
Love you Gerry.
