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About Bari

So, picture this—dusty joint, Nevada desert, brothel called “Randy’s Roost.” Been there since ‘73. Owner’s a grizzled hag named Marge—swears she banged Elvis once. Probly a lie, but who cares? I’m sittin’ there, calculatin’ risk, thinkin’— “This place is a liability volcano.” Girls look tired, like they’ve seen too many truckers. One’s smokin’ a cig, starin’ at me— “What’s your deal, beardy?” I grunt, “I hate everything.” She laughs, says, “Same, hon.” Fair enough.

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But then, outta nowhere, I get tangled in some seaweed. I’m flailing like a maniac. I’m thinking, “This is how I die. Choked by seaweed in Candelo.” But I manage to get free. Phew! I come up for air, and Marco’s cracking up. “You good, bro?” Yeah, just almost became a salad, thanks!

Candelo's service station owner retires after 36 years; friends and family gather to celebrate