When I was a student at the University of Virginia, I’d occasionally travel to and from my hometown in New Jersey. It would have been slightly shorter and faster to take I-95, but I preferred an alternate route, taking I-78 into Pennsylvania, then I-81 down into Virginia, then I-64 west to Charlottesville. It was perhaps 30 minutes and 60 miles longer, but it had a few benefits. One, there were no toll roads. Two, the scenery — miles and miles of farmland — was beautiful. And three, there was this little — ahem — store that I discovered one day just off the highway. Actually, it wasn’t that hard to discover, because you could see the sign from the interstate. It was in Bethel, Pennsylvania, right by Exit 4 or 5 of I-78.

I’d see the sign every time I drove that route, but I’d never pull off the highway to check the place out. Then one day I finally did.

There was nothing around but that store and an Exxon station. A sign on the door told me that people under 21 were not allowed in, and that IDs would be checked. Since I was under 21, I didn’t go in. I guess I was worried I’d get arrested or something.

After I turned 21, I finally went inside for the first time on one of my trips back to school. There were lots of items and magazines, and in the back, there was a row of booths: single-person booths with curtains over the entrances, each containing a video screen with access to various channels for people of different tastes. There was also a coin slot (which was later upgraded to a bill slot). I think those booths were my first exposure to video entertainment of a certain nature. Before then, I’d seen only magazines.

From then on, that little store in Bethel, PA was one of the highlights of my 400-mile trip.

I bought a videotape there once, and it turned out to be rather monotonous, certainly much less entertaining than what I’d seen in the booths. But on one trip I bought another one, called “Tradewinds,” and it wound up being really great.

Unfortunately, during my final year of law school, a friend and I traded tapes, and he moved to France before I could get my tape back. I never heard from him again.

For years, I mourned the loss of my beloved tape.

It wasn’t until last week that it occurred to me to find and buy it online. I’d never bought that kind of thing online before. I’m not exactly a connoisseur of the topic; I can count my collection on less than one hand. (As for the other hand — oh, never mind.)

So anyway (and this is the first my boyfriend is hearing of this — how embarrassing for me), last week I tracked it down online and ordered it (on DVD!) and it should arrive any day.

That’s entertainment.