When you talk old skool, you talk Cockerham. Unless of course you do not live in Galax, in which case you may never have heard tell of Cockerham, because it is not exactly a name that rolls off the tongue. But around these parts, Cockerham Tire and Auto probably means about as little as it does to you and me. I really have no idea because we only stopped there for a minute to fill the tank. But in those few minutes, we were transported to a time when you did not have the luxury of choosing from a dozen brands of jerky, to say nothing of flavors of each brand. If you wanted to go to the bathroom, you had to smile nicely at the attendant and hope that he smiled back as he handed you a key attached to some indistinguishable object so that you would not make off with it as you carefully walked around the outer corner of the building, hoping not to be accosted be anyone else who dared brave that outdoor pit stop. And if you should think for even a second about not returning it, let it be known that he was watching you. Why? I really have no idea, because anyone who would make off with a beaten and battered key attached to what may have once been a part of that bathroom probably ought to be allowed to keep it.