In case you don't recognize the relatively blooming bald (yet still somewhat subtle) patch on that young gent standing in front of the sign, it's me. The place where I spent twenty-two years of my existence here on Planet Earth is a place called Clarion, Pennsylvania. One of my best memories is that of a business that is still thriving and somewhat of a legend in many circles. "Eddie's Dogs" is what we call it. Bar-none, the best hot-dogs on earth, and I've attended a Harlem Globetrotter game in my life.
Eddie is the owner and should be proud. In college, we probably gave him more crap than your local plumber can handle. But damn if he doesn't make the most fantastic hot-dogs around. And he has a pretty good sense of humor for a guy who looks like the Crypt Keeper never heard of moisturizer.
When attending back-to-back family reunions in my first visit to Clarion in years, we stopped by this legendary institution. It really wasn't churning in my head that we'd be stopping at Eddie's. I was there to help celebrate a monumental moment in my Aunt's Life and introduce the family to something other than a blow-up doll.
And then we passed Eddie's. At one point, he had two locations... one in Clarion (right across from a bar that was very popular among the college folks) and one that is shown in these pictures, which is the only operating one right now. My only assumption is that he shut the other one down because it isn't exactly easy for a 195 year old gent to deal with a bunch of dumb smucks like me... let alone the Frat Boys.
All stupid analogies and restless attempts at humor aside, the guy took what he did and does for a living and made it into something pretty special. If you want the best hot dogs in the land, visit him. 
As far as the sunsets and other memories, well, some things you just keep to yourself. But they are good ones, none the less.
The most articulate version of the author's reaction to his first Taco Dog...
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Jason, love hot dog places. I need to visit Clarion...