My first job was a car polisher and a gofer kid at a DeSoto Car Dealership. Rich Hill was a small town so it was the business occupying the southeast corner of a block. To the north was a shuttered store. The east half of the block was a vacant lot. Across the lot and across the street hung the back door of a cafe. Over that door, pointing toward my work place hung a speaker connected to a juke box. The cook was partial to Johnny Cash and his Ring Of Fire and evidently had access to a mountain of nickels.
It was the spring of 1956 and that song is still rattling around in my head.