This year, road trips look a little different: Summertime came early, in mid-April, and my brother showed up outside my dorm with his brand new (to him) car packed to the brim with our new lives. This road trip follows the same route as all my childhood pilgrimage but in reverse. We're headed north, back home but with every kilometre watching it fade from view. It's hard and it's heavy, saying goodbye, and in the midst of all this confusion, we cling to our traditions like children to our parents' shins. And Rolly's diner is absolutely saturated with tradition.
Every summer, stopping at Rolly's marked the end of our journey. Hope, BC is only an hour and a half from Vancouver, which is only a couple hours from my grandparents' house. After a solid 16 hours trapped in a moving vehicle, that is the definition of close enough. We'd pile out of the van, stretch our numb legs in the parking lot, then slide eagerly into a booth and ask the waitress for the same thing, year after year: four massive plates of eggs Benedict, please.
This year the table was smaller - just my brother and I. We split one order and even that was more than enough to put us in a food coma for the rest of the drive. Butter and eggs and hashbrowns and bread are just enough to fill your stomach and ease your mind, for a couple of minutes, at least.
Rolly's Diner is all vinyl booths, rose-patterned tiles, homemade pies sitting in a glass display. It's trying to force ketchup from glass bottles and listening to the light chink of china as you set your mug of coffee down on its saucer, breathe in, breathe out, take another sip. Walking through the door is like walking back in time. The food, the people and the atmosphere are sugar-coated with nostalgia and breeding grounds for tradition. The next time you find yourself itching to just get up and go, make sure to make a pit stop at Rolly's on your long journey home.
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