You let intuition guide you. a random right, then a left, then a right again. Winding along and enjoying the open road.

Strawberry signs start appearing every 300 yards. You know you’re close.

Then you see it —

Unassuming, run down.

The strawberry shack.

You grab a crate, leave the cash and proceed to drive off the gravel ridden shoulder, back onto the road.

Windows rolled down. The crisp air now mixing with the smell of freshly picked strawberries in the car. Mentally configuring how to best make use of this stupendous purchase.

Then nostalgia hits you. So you spend the rest of your Sunday sitting on the porch, hulling strawberries and dreaming of the PB&J you’re about to have