Back in the late '70s, my cousin Big Henry Baltazar and I, with our ladies, of course, were on a Sunday motorcycle ride around the Corona/Lake Elsinore area, and from there, we took a two-lane road to Perris in Riverside County. But before we got to Perris, we came upon a small hamlet, one without no name. There we stopped at a gas station similar to the one in the photo. Once Henry and I were done topping off the Harley's, we looked for the men's room.
We asked the attendant, a little old man who looked to be a refugee from Los Angeles' skid row, where the bathroom was; with a toothless grin, he motioned with his head and said "around the corner" Around the corner, we found only a door that was hanging on by just one of its three hinges. There was no sign on it to indicate that it was the men's room, but we went in anyway. We found, in what served as both a supply room and men's and ladies' bathroom, a toilet bucket with a tire split in half as the seat. The tire/seat was a white wall from Sears.
