We are home after a two-day road trip to Lexington, KY. I left here on Wednesday with my husband and a large box of homemade chocolate chip cookies. I returned last night with neither.
Hubby had a meeting in Lexington yesterday, so we went along. This was only partly so that we could spend time together as a family. The rest of the story is that I just felt like spending two days in the car with my children, feeding them junk food from chain restaurants and listening to them screaming in the back seat. I also felt like dropping my husband off at the Lexington airport so that he could go to another meeting elsewhere while the girls and I drove [and drove and drove and drove] back home by ourselves.
Our trip was actually very nice. The girls like to go on “business trips”. We pack food, books and games, and we have fun in the car. I like to drive, so when I am whining about driving and driving and driving, I’m actually saying, “I want you to think it was horrible but, truthfully, I was in my glory.”
Unfortunately, it was after I dropped DH off at the Lexington Airport that I realized two terrible things. One was that I had not taken a single picture thus far. This, fortunately, was quickly remedied.
At this point, I also realized that I had only enjoyed one small, tasteless, unfortunate cup of hotel coffee thus far. No worries, I told myself. We would be on the highway soon, and this being the age of chain foods as well as the modern GPS, I would certainly be able to find a reasonable cup of joe forthwith.
Oh, those best-laid plans.
First of all, we had to get everyone settled down and happy, else Mama would be very distracted while trying to drive.
Chocolate chip cookies solve a multitude of problems, I have learned.
By the time we learned this valuable lesson, however, we had passed most of the civilized region on our route, and were deeply ensconsed in Rural America.
There is no coffee in Rural America.
We passed the ubiquitous farm,
the ubiquitous electrical tower,
and the ubiquitous construction.
Coffee, unfortunately, is not ubiquitous here. Not in the least.
I contemplated calling someone for assistance,
but realized there were other people who probably needed slightly more help than me.
But then, I also realized that my handy GPS unit can search out business names, and give you directions to said businesses from wherever you happen to be. Oh, glory! Oh joy! What luck!!
Nuvi, Nuvi, on my window,
Get me out of coffee limbo.
Where’s the fairest coffee shop?
Is it near? Around the block?
Alas, my Nuvi did not come through. As I had feared, there was No Good Coffee to be had along our route.
I realize these pictures are blurry. Forgive me. I am driving, and suffering from a severe lack of caffeine.
(My hand is firmly on the wheel, however.)
Perhaps there was some good coffee not along our route, but within a tolerable detour.
Nuvi, Nuvi, on the dash,
Help me find some coffee, fast.
Where’s the nearest place you see?
Find some decent joe for me!
SIXTY FIVE MILES??? The nearest coffee is SIXTY FIVE MILES away? You have GOT to be kidding me.
To take my mind off of this horrible revelation, I started photographing the other coffee-less people suffering on the road along with me.
But this made me think, most selfishly, that the other folks probably had secured their brewed beverages prior to entering this godforsaken No Coffee Zone. Or else they had planned ahead, and made themselves self-caffeinated. Like, this camper probably had a French press or even a drip-pot, and that they were most likely sipping their very own brewed coffee even as I was snapping photos:
Maybe we had somehow gotten closer to a coffee oasis. I checked again.
FIFTY miles. That’s only marginally better than 65. What a crock. So I just concentrated on the road ahead, and on getting home.
Finally, after an interminably loooong time, we arrived at home. Decaffeinated.
Next time, I’ll be bringing a Thermos.