My wife Abby and I both drink our share of coffee. For the last couple of years, we’ve had a Keurig, the single-cup brewing system that recently swept a nation anxious to triple its coffee costs. Abby’s favorite coffee is Donut Shop, while tend toward several varieties, including Eight O’Clock and Millstone’s Foglifter.
It’s good coffee. In fact, it’s great coffee. But it doesn’t compare … in fact, nothing compares, to road coffee.
I love the road, and I never love the road more than when Abby and I are traveling together. Most of our trips are out west, and the drives are long. Starting in the morning and lasting much of the day on those travels, we stop for gas and a big cup of coffee. For me, that first cup of the day is the one that hits me the most. It’s the start of something great, something we’ve been excitedly anticipating. The adventure is beginning, and it begins with that big styrofoam cup of industrial-steel-machine brewed jet black coffee.
With a lottery ticket and a full tank of gas, we rumble on down the road with those cups in the center console. I always, always burn the tip of my tongue a little on the first sip, since I want to drink it, but it’s too hot, and the styrofoam keeps it that way.
Back home, we use the Keurig and talk about the next trip. But that trip doesn’t really start until I have the first hot sip of road coffee.