It is six a.m. on The Day we Drive into Seattle, the day of reckoning, and we can’t find any coffee. Panic. We drove out of Helena, MT this morning in the hour of predawn darkness before the “open” signs light up, and faced about an hour of uncaffeinated driving before happening up on the town of Drummond, MT. We found the Wagon Wheel Café just off the highway on the right.
The Wagon Wheel is the kind of place that slows down after about 7 a.m., which was when we arrived. When we walked in, everyone turned to stare. I instantly wished I hadn’t worn my gauchos and pigtails; combined with the red Saab wagon (and the fact I had been driving), I must have represented all that was bad about the feminist revolution that the generation of men sitting at the tables had carefully helped their now middle-aged daughters avoid. But in no time flat, we had our own thermos of coffee perched on the edge of the table, and dangerous piles of country-style sausage, buttery white toast, and scrambled eggs on 1960’s-era Corningware plates on front of us. It was all delicious.
Wagon Wheel Café
316 East Front Street
Drummond, MT 59832