Best BBQ I ever had was in a shitty gas station off IH45 North of Centerville.
The weather was rolling in so the wife and I pulled in to look at the double rainbows and there it was. Like an angel emerging from the mist it called to us. I don't remember the town or the name of the place. We wandered in like a dreamscape and ordered a pound of brisket and a pound of turkey. There was pie. It was divine. It stalked my dreams for the next several months until we resolved to find it again. As we drove through Centerville, Buffalo, and whatever other crappy towns are around there we became increasingly agitated until we realized that we weren't going to find it. It was as if the curtains of reality briefly parted and showed us a divine truth then closed, never to reveal the secret ever again. Someday, when I pass from this mortal coil, perhaps my wife and I shall be reunited in this place again for all time, destined to feast for eternity.