the original not the pretzel, a Mountain Dew, and a pee break at the Speedway gas station as you head up north on Michigan Highway 31.

But, this time you can’t stop there because--and it’s really sad because it messed up your yearly vacation ritual--the Speedway burned down.

So, the Taco Bell three miles to the left of the traditional right-hand turn is where you end up, and well, there is a lot more food in the car. It was manageable with Combos and Mountain Dew, instead of a bunch of crunchy tacos, a stuffed burrito, and a Pepsi--they were out of Mountain Dew--and, inevitably, if you eat crunchy tacos in the car, shredded lettuce and those little tomatoes end up all over your seat.

 On top of that, when you stopped at the Speedway, peeing was part of the ritual, but this time with all that Taco Bell you forgot that part, and now, heading in the right direction, you have to find a place to pee, so you stop drinking the Pepsi and just sit there perturbed.

Until, two miles up the road, you almost slam on the breaks, “When the hell did they put up a  Starbucks!” It’s a no-brainer this will be your new ritual stop, you already have visions of  Grande Mocha Frappuccinos dancing through your head.

When you go to park your car, you realize it’s the only one there, “Goddamit!” Now you have pee-pain on top of shattered-expectations pain.

So, you horseshoe around the--Coming Soon--Starbucks and through the lineless drive-thru, just to show them how angry you are, and back on the road with your pee-pain-pressing bladder and  Taco Bell droppings all over your seat.

Luckily, up the road is that local Diner you never wanted to stop at because you always thought it looked too local. It’s sure going to look good now, so you speed up.

And yeah, the locals must not have been hungry enough because it’s closed. At this point, it doesn't matter; nature has been yelling at you for an hour so pulling in behind the Diner is the only alternative you have to make it stop. 

Finally, you get your ahhh moment.

 Afterward, you stay outside the car, grab the almost full Pepsi cup-- you refused to empty so you could pee in it--what’s left of the Taco Bell, and enjoy an impromptu picnic. And you think, how shitty it is that the Speedway burned down, and how you really wanted Combos and Mountain Dew, and yeah, Taco Bell was great, but who builds a Starbucks and doesn't open it, and, worst of all, now you feel kinda guilty you didn't stop at the Diner at least once seeing you just used it as an outhouse.  

But, oh well, you're  heading in the right direction, and by next year Starbucks should be open and a new ritual can begin, so you say goodbye to the old and hello to the new, but wish you’d looked at your cell phone through all this because you notice you have four missed calls and a text:

Why aren't you answering your phone!

Your father and I are getting worried!

David Calogero Centorbi is a poet that in the 90's earned an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. Now, he is a poet working, experimenting, and living in Detroit, MI. Recently published work in The Daily Drunk, Dreams Walking, Versification, Brown Bag Online, and Crepe & Pen. He can be found here on Twitter: @DavidCaCentorbi.