After we finished cleaning and fixing things in my mother's kitchen, then boxing up and mailing out a prototype my father is building, my father and I climbed in the car and went to Jonesville, where a little place called the Brick serves the best cheeseburgers I've ever eaten. I had a cheeseburger in San Francisco last December that was nearly as good as a Brick burger, but that one cost $6.95. This one was $2.50. Cheeseburger, potato chips, Coke: simple as that. I've known for days what I would order the second we sat down at the counter. We sat side by side and watched a television; we watched the guy at the grill making our burgers; we got our burgers in their paper wrappers; mine was gone in about seven minutes. We have been eating at the Brick for fifteen years. It is always as good as the time before, always as good as I imagine it in the time intervening.