Here in Upstate New York, there are a lot of (potentially) beautiful old Main Streets, lined mostly or completely with handsome old brick buildings from a bygone era. These vintage buildings tend to have retail storefronts on the streetside first floor, complete with ample display windows, and one, two, or more floors of apartments above and often a basement for storage below. Once upon a time, I presume, all available space was used or occupied and the town was bustling. Not anymore.

The other day, while driving in a part of a nearby city (accurately) known as Commercial Drive — you know, several miles of box stores and chain restaurants, I saw a pedestrian. I was waiting at a light and an unexpected flash of movement and color on my right distracted me. I glanced over, startled. A teenage girl had somehow threaded her way through the idling cars, without benefit of a crosswalk, and was climbing over waist-​high steel barriers. I watched with concern as she flung one leg across, then

Recently I moved to a small town in upstate New York. I’m chagrined to note that acclaimed author Richard Russo (Empire Falls, Mohawk, Nobody’s Fool) has already taken all the good pseudo-​names for this part of the world, so I will protect my new neighbors’ anonymity as best I can, by calling this town Moderate Falls. So far, it is a pleasant place to live, with attractive scenery, a smattering of shops, and friendly townspeople. But it is not without its dramas and flaws…and colorful characters…My current favorite is the Hot Dog Guy.

Before I tell you about the Hot Dog Guy, I must start by setting the scene. In Moderate Falls, we have a Main Street a few blocks long (he has a mobile cart and tries to stay in the shade). During the urban-​renewal frenzy that swept the state and indeed many parts of the nation in the 60s, one side of this street was razed for “improvements.” Those improvements, now getting on in years, include a sprawling one-​story “mall” anchored by a moderate-​size grocery store, attended by various smaller businesses, and a few vacancies and, predictably, surrounded by a sea of bland parking lot. Clearly nothing has been done to upgrade this substantial piece of our downtown in many a long year, and it looks both dated and cruddy, frankly. Across the street and up and down the way we have a moderately attractive, classic Main Street, with unassuming storefronts fronted by a sidewalk under a sheltering roof supported by columns — a classic small-​town look. Some fresh paint on these once-​handsome columns and older wooden buildings and their trim, some Windex applied with what my grandma called “elbow grease” on the streetside windows, perhaps even some colorful awnings or inviting on-​street seating…would be, I think, doable and nice. We don’t aspire to be gentrified, upscale Saratoga Springs, but the potential is here for Prettier, More Prosperous Falls.

The car of a girlfriend of mine recently died, or rather, as is so often the case, it required yet another costly repair that ultimately is not worth it. Time to go car-​shopping. Due to her limited budget, and hoving to the Car Talk guys’ sage advice, she wants to get a used car, in decent condition, with not too many miles on it. We were talking about this because I have bought several used cars over the years. So I said to her: good luck, honey!

Car-​shopping is a challenge, to be sure. It is a big purchase for most everybody, undertaken with some trepidation, some concern about not getting a lemon or buying somebody else’s money pit, some anxiety about getting into debt (many of us cannot buy a car with cash, outright), and maybe a dash of excitement or anticipation (gawd, how nice it will be to get behind the wheel, turn a key, and have the dang thing reliably start up!).

Many long years ago, Roadside Magazine ran an a photo essay cleverly entitled “Boy Meets Grill,” celebrating the guy at our local diner or coffee shop who flips pancakes, turns out meltingly crisp home fries, and knows how to do when it comes to eggs “sunny side up” and “over easy.” But what about the ladies who make our visits so comforting and memorable? A marvelous book has just been published, Counter Culture: The American Coffee Shop Waitress, by Candacy Taylor. It is marvelous because it is a book of integrity and insight. You should buy it immediately (order it through your local bookshop — the publisher is Cornell University Press — or grab it via amazon​.com), definitely for holiday gifts, and/​or alert Santa.

A quick thumb-​through reveals a bounty of terrific photographs, portraits of the waitresses at work, at a counter or beside a booth, with favorite customers; enticing shots of pie being served and coffee being poured, etc. There is something candid and compassionate, but not patronizing, about these images — Taylor has a knack for respectfully capturing the real. Those of us who try to take good photos in such places would do well to study her success here.

However, though handsomely produced, this is not a coffee-​table book, not really. Read it! A former waitress herself, Taylor undertook this project to interview and understand the older American waitress after a long night: “On that Friday night I thought to myself, if we are this tired, how do waitresses twice our age (I was in my early 30s at the time) do this, and how do they feel about their jobs? Do they have dreams they have never realized? Are they worn out from the physical and mental demands of the job?…The questions kept coming.” With camera, tape recorder, laptop, and an open mind (there are so many clichés!), Taylor set out to learn about career waitresses, or “lifers,” as they sometimes wryly, or proudly, call themselves.