We motored our mini to Manch Vegas yesterday hoping to catch some pres. candidates in action. With four days to go til the primary, the frontrunners were fanned out across the Granite State. Manch. was not hot w/ hopefuls. But we did notice an inordinate numb. of Irish Pubs, The Wild Rover, Murphy's, Millies, Shaskeen … one on every corner. For lunch we settled on the Red Arrow Diner, 61 Lowell St. off Elm.

I had heard about this 24-hour diner straight-from-central- casting for years now and was itching to try it. The klieg lights stationed in the snow outside the tiny boxcar, invited images of Obama opining over omelets inside. Thrusting through the narrow double doors … no Barack, Hil or Ed. Instead a foot-high layer cake on a chrome counter, hearty hash and pancakes as big as chargers on the eye-level grill changed our foucs fast. After listening to the bushy haired college kids at the Stop Global Warming hut, we were hungry.

Sitting at the raised Formica bar flanked by flannel-clad regulars, it felt work-a-day real. This isn't a diner trying to be a diner (hello Johnny Rockets) the Red Arrow IS a diner. And that's refreshing. If you like a big feed and kitschy waitresses this is your place. Myself, still bouncing back from a meat-forward holiday session, was not up for a full cholesterol binge. So I ordered a turkey club w/ coleslaw. While satisfying, real turkey and bread w/a good crunch, I over mayoed myself and wished I had said, "hold it." I swore off the stuff for 10 yrs. and anytime I spy a dollop I have to psyche myself up. Could have used a pickle to achieve the all-important moisture quotient.

Had I been in an egg or pancake place or even a slice-of-pie-and-bottomless-cupa-coffee mood, I probably would have fared better. Nevertheless its heart is in the right place and any diner devotee would be happy as a clam at high tide at the Red Arrow.