In the midst of all the recent drama and controversy surrounding The Market Building downtown, I thought I would share a pleasant dining experience I had at New York Pizza on Hardy Road in Vinton.

A good friend of mine was in town for the weekend and we were both looking for something fairly cheap, quick, and a place we hadn’t eaten at before. I have been told by more than one person over the years that when it comes to a pizza or calzone, I need to make New York Pizza a dining consideration.

On this particular evening we were driving around and decided to give it a shot.

I ordered a calzone with cheese (and only cheese) and I suppose there’s not a whole lot that goes into making one. But, what makes it good for me is when ALOT of cheese is used, so much that it melts and oozes out from the sides even.

Eating at New York Pizza on Hardy Road in Vinton.

As you can see I wasn’t let down.

Have any of ya’ll ever eaten at New York Pizza? How was your experience?

The weather this past weekend in Roanoke was I would say just about as close to perfection for early Fall as anyone could want.

Clouds were scarce, but the temperature really wasn’t hot like it would’ve been back in August.

I needed to stop by the main Post Office near downtown to mail a few letters and snapped a these couple pictures as I crossed the bridge on 2nd Street.

Perhaps someday to be incorporated into a personal memoir, for now just ramblings about my life growing up and living in Roanoke, VA.

At one point when I younger it seemed to take forever and then all of the sudden it happened so fast, growing up I mean. It was 1996, I was 16 and it was the summer after my junior year at Cave Spring High School. I don’t remember the exact day but my father graciously arranged for the purchase of my first car. It was a sun-faded, grey 1986 Ford Taurus. And to say I was thrilled was an understatement.

To this day that is the largest single gift, as far as monetary value, I think I’ve ever received from anyone. I never have been good at accepting gifts. Maybe it’s, no, I know it’s a form of pride and a strong instinctive notion that I’m capable to do and provide for myself. But, I was only 16 and my dad knew all about the issues with my pride, probably because I came by it naturally. So, he had a solution for it all.

He handed me the keys and basically said, “Ok, you have a car, but cars aren’t free to maintain. And, you better have insurance yesterday.”

And that was about it. As I look back now it was all really just an informal test. My dad wanted to see if I would start my journey at finding my place in the world, and on my own.

Well, my first step on that journey, as far as the working world goes, began in fast food. The Taco Bell on Route 220/Franklin Road (near Walmart) I called my home away from home. I was the typical young punk behind the counter. (Well, except without any implied notion of narcotics use!)

Throughout that remaining summer, and nearly every Friday and Saturday night during my senior year in highschool, I spent saying, “Welcome to Taco Bell, can I take your order?” I started out making $5.50 an hour and have never in my life have felt so rich as the time I received my first paycheck. No debt, practically non-existent bills, and enough free time that it felt like a form of youthful retirement.

As it turned out a really good friend also worked similar hours. So after we both learned the ropes of taco preparation the time on the clock became a form of hanging out on house arrest. Chances are if you came to that Taco Bell drive-thru on a weekend night during late 1996 to 1997 you encountered one of us.

I didn’t stop working there after I graduated from Cave Spring. Well into the following years while attending Virginia Western Community College I still made tacos like the best of them. I even had a short stint as a shift manager and the promise of moving into higher management positions within the company. Probably more interesting, I saw and met my first serious girlfriend at that Taco Bell restaurant (she was a customer).

So, even today the place for me has a kinda nostalgia associated with it for many reasons. I still remember most of the food items, the ingredients, and how they’re made.

I just didn’t know how good and easy I had it then. But, maybe we never do until after the fact and we’re looking back. And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

When I was in the downtown area this past weekend taking pictures of the new art museum, I snapped a few other photos along the way:

Looking down Jefferson Street.

Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial Bridge.

A new convenience mart called the Downtown Corner Store (brick section on lower level of parking garage) prepares to open near the corner of Salem Avenue and 1st Street.