The Coffee Machines

I stepped outside this morning to run some errands--a brief stop at the vet's office to buy some diet cat food for Charlie, then to the grocery story for milk and bread, and finally to the bakery for doughnuts to surprise the kids.  It was a gorgeous morning, with a breathtaking blue sky and just the hint of a gentle breeze.  Each time I emerged from the pickup, the flawless day reminded me of those perfect Saturday mornings way back in the early 1960's, when our whole family piled into the car to accompany Dad on his errands. To be more specific, I should say that we went along while he serviced his vending machines.  

Besides managing the Oxnard Hotel in Norfolk, Dad also managed several coffee machines, like the one pictured below.  Sometimes, he would load one into the back of his pickup so he could drop it off at a new location.  But, usually, he would make his rounds about once a week to refill the machines with cups and everything else that was needed to produce hot coffee, with (or without) cream or sugar, or equally hot cocoa.  And, of course, he would collect the dimes he earned for his effort.
 

I remember sitting in the parked car with Mom and Danny and, later, baby Laura Beth, perusing the contents of the glove compartment while we waited.  In my mind, those mornings were always spring days; we couldn't have gone along in the summer when it was too hot to stay in an un-airconditioned car, or in the winter, either, unless Dad was willing to let the car idle so we could stay warm while we waited.  Some days, it seemed like we sat in the car a long time while Dad finished his work inside some business that relied on its coffee machine for the employees' breaks.  Or, maybe it just seemed like a long time to a squirmy six-year-old who really wanted to play outside in the beckoning sunlight. 

One of Dad's vending machines sat in the hotel lobby.  It was fascinating to watch him unlock the machine and swing the entire front panel open so he could access the interior.  I liked watching him place a towering stack of disposable cups in their channel.  I don't remember exactly how the machine worked, but I know it was hooked up to a water supply.  When someone inserted a dime, and pushed a button to indicate what kind of beverage they wished to purchase, a single cup dropped down, and was filled with a swoosh of steaming hot water.  I suppose that the proper amounts of coffee or cocoa powder were added at the same time, along with cream and sugar, if that's what the customer wanted.  

I don't know if the coffee was any good, and Mom and Dad probably weren't sure about that, either, since neither of them drank much coffee at that time of their lives.  However, I sampled the hot chocolate often in the frigid winter months, whenever I could persuade someone to give me a dime.  (Or, whenever I found a forgotten dime in the pay phone's coin return--but that's another story.)

I can still remember the slightly burnt smell of that watery, chocolate drink.  The hot chocolate was definitely hot--too hot to drink right away.  I burned my tongue more than once because I was too impatient to wait for it to cool.  As hot chocolate goes, I've definitely had better.  In my opinion, the cocoa would have been better if the machine had also dispensed marshmallows!  But the memory lives on, just the same.  On a cold, blustery day, there was nothing quite like that piping hot cocoa, straight from Dad's vending machine.