Waffle quest

It was 5am, and I was about to fall asleep in the bed of a ’77 Chevy pick-up. For a few minutes I was content to look up and watch the stars spin. But instead, I convinced everyone to go to the Waffle House. Five miles, a hamburger, double plate hashbrowns scattered-covered-and-smothered, and one sunrise later, we made it back.
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