The entrance to the Pitchwood Inn in Raymond, Washington, seemed rather drab, uninviting. More utility shed than saloon. It didn’t exactly scream: great dive bar stocked with “Cannery Row” characters!

Nevertheless, I had time to kill before a gig at the library, so I walked inside. I learned long ago not to judge a dive bar by its cover.

Thirty minutes later, I left the Pitchwood with a serious case of literary vertigo; I could not believe what I had just seen because in my long years of chronicling the cultural life of Pacific Northwest coastal taverns and bars, these images were firsts, and many quite inexplicable to me:

• A 16-point buck on the wall;

• A blue neon sign advertising oysters;

• Ice in the gleaming metal urinal in the men’s bathroom;

• The ability to check into one of the Pitchwood’s motel rooms — right at the bar — while sipping a double Malibu Rum;

• Onion rings so thick they resembled the bracelets worn by Pharaoh Ramses (Yul Brynner) in “The Ten Commandments”;

• People actually eating a whole plate of these onion rings;

• At least 30 former Korean and Vietnam-era Marines and their wives drinking beers, bloody marys, gin and tonics and even one Jack Daniels and lemonade;

• A poster advertising a performance — in the Pitchwood — by the semi-legendary punk-country-rock band The Supersuckers.

I nearly threw out my neck doing a double take when I saw the poster. Over 20 years ago, I saw The Supersuckers open a show for Social Distortion in Seattle. I nearly went deaf from the experience. How in the world this band could be headlining a show in Raymond, Washington, in winter was beyond my comprehension. These dudes must be in their 60s by now! Who says rock is dead? No one in the Pitchwood.

Matt Love is the author/editor of 14 books, available through nestuccaspitpress.com