Roscoe, NY is a small town that has at least some significance to most of my family. For my grandfather it was the town where he was born and the town where he is now buried. For my Mother’s generation the Roscoe Diner was where you stopped to eat on the way to or from New York City.
For Mrs. Usedhair and I it was this mysterious land that time forgot. As we would drive past Roscoe cell phone signal was non existent and if you put the radio on seek mode it would run around and around searching for about 10 minutes as you cruised down the road before it could manage to find anything at all.
On our vacation in the Southern Tier of New York we decided to drive out to Long Island for a few days. On the way there we noticed that Roscoe had cell phone signal, radio stations galore, and… A brewery!
Now this is something I had to see. On the trip back we made a point of stopping in. I assumed the sign visible from the highway meant that the brewery would be right by the road as well. So we pulled into downtown Roscoe looking to find it without bothering with the help of a map. What we found there had me quite worried.