Hot Ham, 6 a.m.

We drove straight from Denver to Hyannis, Massachusetts with one brief pit stop in Michigan and a quick crash in western New York for a pre dawn nap in a McDonald’s parking lot.  There was not a motel, hotel or manger to be had in the entire state so we were forced to keep pressing on fueled by red bulls and loud ska on the stereo.  By the time the sun started to crack the horizon we were somewhere near Schenectady and the light revealed a sign on the side of the road that said the Hot Ham Café opens at 6 am.  Now, it’s a known fact that I can sniff out good dives like a pig knows where to dig for truffles, and seeing that sign rang a bell.  We pulled into a creepy little town  and found a tiny café tucked in the back of a seedy motel parking lot (no vacancy there, either).  A couple of sleepy chaps at the bar and the only sounds were talk radio and the sizzling griddle.  Being that this place was obviously known for it’s hot ham, I ordered up a ham, egg and cheese sangy.  I also got a large coffee (light and sweet) and a honking slice of homemade apple pie (when I tell you this was the best apple pie I have ever had in my life, I am not exaggerating).  A breakfast of champions.  I relieved Alex of the wheel feeling full and satisfied and drove east with the morning sun in my eyes and the Berkshire Mountains up ahead.