Thursday, 8 a.m.: Loretta, “the singing waitress” serves up two eggs over easy with sausage, hash browns and wheat toast to trucker Willie Carter, a regular for 18 years.
“I drive a big truck, but I don’t fool with the big truck stops,” said the burly, 53-year-old South Texan. “A lot of people don’t know about this truck stop because of construction. Just a few of us old-timers know about it.”
Manager Tammy Soto says since the exit was closed, business has dropped 80 percent. She had to lay off 14 employees, including one woman who has worked in the kitchen for 15 years. Today, they get by with a staff of nine, and close the restaurant early, 2 p.m.
“Oct. 31st they shut that exit down. That’s when everything changed. Everybody coming from the south, there was nowhere for them to get off to get to us. And we’re used to having that exit right here, right in front of our store,” Ms. Soto said.
“All these people, a lot of them don’t even know we’re still open. And once they realize it … it’s too late. They’ve done passed us.”
Ms. Soto said the Texas Department of Transportation would not put in a temporary exit because it was dangerous.
9 a.m.: Construction worker wearing a hard hat, sunglasses and a bandanna drifts in, buys drinks, leaves. “Lessons learned and they sure run deep,” by Tracy Lawrence drifts across the dining room from the clock radio perched on the soda fountain.
Ken Roberts, spokesman for TxDOT, said he expects the exit to open late winter 2008. He understands construction has hurt the truck stop, but they have to get the road widened.
“We are being diligent in our efforts to complete this project in as timely a manner as possible. We ask the patience of the traveling public as well as businesses, residents and other stakeholders in the area,” Roberts wrote in an e-mail.
9:10 a.m.: The smell of fresh coffee and Travis Tritt’s hit “I’m going to be somebody,” wafts across the dining room. A couple enters through the rear door, both wearing shorts, coffee thermos in hand.
It’s the first time Paul and Beverly Reynolds have stopped at JD’s. They found it easily because they were southbound. Their fuel directory noted the correct exit number. Two days in the saddle, they left their golden retriever, Atlanta, in the 1987 International they are driving from Augusta, Ga., to Bartlett. A worker has been sweeping and mopping for more than hour. Beverly is impressed.
“If it’s not clean, I’m not coming back,” she said.
Paul likes the coffee.
“My truck has always run on two kinds of fuel, diesel and coffee. Good coffee.”
The Reynolds represent the little bit of business left at JD’s - southbounders who can still find the place.
Down in Austin, truck stop owner JD Staub said finding the exit from the south is almost impossible.
“Even I have to hunt for it when I go up there.” Staub bought the truck stop in the early 1970s. He keeps a “skeleton crew” to run the show. “I don’t want to lose the long-term employees I got. Sometimes you have to take short-term losses for a long-term gain.”
9:15 a.m.: One customer. A local, drinking hot tea.
Staub says TxDOT is a bureaucracy, unconcerned with his business. “It’s layer upon layer upon layer. They could care less. Their jobs are not dependent upon it.”
Back at TxDOT, Roberts said they are interested in talking with Staub, but “I don’t think he’s going to get the answers he wants.”
After a fire destroyed the restaurant in 1994, Staub rebuilt, expanded and reopened six months later. He is determined to weather this economic storm, “If it doesn’t break me first.”
9:30 a.m.: The café is empty. Four ceiling fans swirl overhead. Faith Hill is singing “It matters to me,” on the clock radio.
Victor Lara has worked at JD’s for 22 years. He said when they were open round-the-clock he ordered a tanker truck of gas and diesel every other day. Now they place about two or three orders a month. “The home office called looking for more (fuel) invoices.”
9:45 a.m.: A sleepy man wearing an orange Texas Longhorns cap walks in, asks if the grill is open. He pumps his fist when Loretta says yes. Shortly, he is unrolling a napkin and looking down at two eggs over medium, ham, hash browns and white toast.
“To be able to come in, sit down, have nice people and food that’s not wrapped in paper and handed to you, that’s huge,” says Chris Drake, a trucker from Cedar Park. Drake pulled in the back lot late last night in his blue Kenworth and slept in.
“These places, unfortunately, they’re dying, the Ma and Pa truck stop.”
The owner, Staub, agrees. “There aren’t many like that left where you can order from a diversified menu. And locals like to come and drink coffee, gossip.”
Loretta, the jovial waitress who sings along to the country station, is down to two days a week. She works part-time at a truck stop north of Temple.
“You be safe out there, babe,” she says, stacking sugar packets in a small, metal rack.
10 a.m.: A driver hauling Ethan Allen furniture from Atoka, Okla., to Corpus Christi stops for breakfast … er, lunch. He orders enchiladas, pointing to the special scrawled on the grease board. Says he’s had this weekly run for 20 years, been stopping at JD’s about that long.
“It’s one of the best places up through here,” said the driver, Wendel Smith. “There is not that many places left out there that is not McDonald’s … cookie cutter food.” Smith says the empty parking lot had him worried when he pulled in. “Honestly, I don’t know how they held out so long.”
Just a few hundred yards north of JD’s, Rocky Edwards works at Heart of Texas Feed and Supply. He says their business doesn’t rely on freeway traffic. They’re doing OK, but Edwards said he has eaten at the truck stop for about 20 years. Due to construction, he has to travel about two miles. Sometimes he takes a short cut and drives across the pasture.
5:45 p.m.: A pickup driver fills his tank, pays at the pump, drives off. Inside, the restaurant is dark. Ms. Soto’s daughter, Alexis, sits behind the convenience store counter, holding a book. Her mother is closing down. She holds out her hands. “This place is a ghost town.”
