gas station coffe

once upon a time i used to drive form atlanta to pittsburgh in one straight shot, several times a year.
along the way i stopped for coffee.
for years, starbucks was non-existent along the highways. i used to drive from georgia through the carolinas up through virginia and west virginia to get to pittsburgh. the irony was that for years the only starbucks along the highway was in west virginia-- not exactly known for coffee.
this drive was efficient to a point but it took more or less five and a half hours to get to virginia and then another four to five just to get through west virginia because of the mountainous terrain. and when i would leave pittsburgh at 5 in the morning to drive back i inevitably would run into thick fog. and believe me, driving down a mountain next to eighteen wheelers when you can't see your hands in front fo your face in pitch black isn't fun.

so at some point during year two of this routine i made the choice to start driving through tennessee and kentucky and ohio, and then cutting over east. beyond being more enjoyable from a terrestrial standpoint because it was more flat this route also included stops to see a friend in cincinnati. and with the trip being more or less the same standpoint, with better coffee stops along the way it was worth it. especially when starbucks started springing up along the highways in tennessee. a venti or two could see me through to ohio.

but before starbucks became highway fodder, i was forced to deal with gas station coffee, or mcdonalds coffee.

at the time mcdonalds was best.  gas station coffee is its own category. it's pure meth as opposed to the more refined cocaine of mcdonalds or starbucks, to be sure. you were drinking it to stay awake and taste came second. and for those like me who drink it straight black, well sugar additions were necessary. alternating red bulls and water and perhaps an ephedrine packet when it was legal would ensure a wide awake twelve our drive. granted my jaw was grinding like a junkie by the time i pulled into allegheny county, but the point is i got there and along the way i enjoyed cds which gave way to mp3's and the southern country landscape which would give way to yankee winters and summers. more or less unchanged except for the coffee options available.

Living in L.A. now, where small batch roasters blow big chains out of the water, Starbucks literally is the mcdonald's of the coffee houses. But when you're driving between Acworth and Knoxville and that is the only place in sight, the mermaid is as welcoming as the golden arches in both consistency, taste and clean bathrooms.

So let's harken back to B.S. or Before Starbucks, for a second. Your options really were limited to diners and the portable styrofoam varieties found in gas stations. Believe me, I have tried them all. From mega chains to mom and pops with meth kids hanging outside, hoping to score cash in exchange for sex, or nothing at all, to weird, way off highway, only gas for miles place owned by the two indians in the county. I've gassed up and fueled up at all of them.

What I learned was Race Trac, was okay, BP and their traditional places weren't and the best in terms of caffeine jolt and pure experience was Pilot.

I have vivid memories of fueling up outside, hands frozen during winter, and sweltering in the mid july heat, before going inside. Because sometimes I'd pay at the pump and then replenish my energy fluids and snacks.

And oh, what an inside.

Pilot may be only a southern chain, I have no idea. I think so because I never saw them north of Kentucky.  But walking into one is like seeing a heartland demimonde under the microscope. First of all, Pilot gas stations are gigantic Built to accommodate semi trucks, tour buses and the like. Each one had multiple entrances. The one for the store and the one that's adjacent or through the mcdonalds, or other fast food joint.

The place has stadium sized bathrooms, arcades and the sketchy showers. Now, I understand a truck driver's job is thankless and hard. I am sure they are underpaid and miserable. Perhaps they fuel up and clean up at the local Pilot before finding love in a stranger's arms especially if there's a 24 hour-adult store just down the road.  But to me a shower in a glorified gas station emporium is as sordid as a glory hole in a rest stop. What I'm saying is, you'd really be filthy to attempt and honest shower there.

No matter. My favorite part of Pilot gas stations is when you get to wander down the endless aisles of truck driver-- stuff: air fresheners, vanity license plate covers, mud flaps, bald eagle blankets, souvenir magnets and more technical stuff like CB parts, hot plates, mini tv's and the endless parade of country cd's and obscure 80's music in the rotating rack. Boz Scaggs' third album? hell yes. Willie Nelson's low point when no one was paying attention? check. three volumes of Charlie Daniels? of course!  Freedom Rock? yup, it's there and thriving.

Walking into Pilot makes me want to spend money. Not just on water and combos and red bulls and coffee but on all kinds of stuff. the place is HUGE. and back when gasoline was under 3 bucks it was amazing.

It's funny how the places you live and pass through  regularly can influence you so much. I haven't been back to the south in more than four years and I still feel apart of it. Perhaps it was the people I knew, but I think it was more that I drove through so many places. I explored.

California is so expansive, it hasn't become a place of exploration for me. L.A. alone is large enough. Too big, in fact. Day trips really are days away. It's not like driving from Atlanta to Athens in an hour. Where I knew both places so well I could drive there in my sleep.

I'm guessing Atlanta is the same, though everyone who was close to me has long since left. Still it's ingrained, the same way Montreal and Pittsburgh is. Maybe some day L.A. will also be ingrained. It'll e interesting to see.

For now, I'm happy I have great coffee.

But sometimes like tonight, I miss the 32 ounce two sugar black Pilot coffee sticking out of my cup holder, because it symbolized somehow being a part of the honest to goodness salt of the earth regular people who drive this country more than the bikram yoga, smarmy, flakey, million-dollar-deal idiots who leech off this part of the country.

Sometimes coffee is better when it's basic. If not better in taste, at least the memories are.