I have a weakness for donuts. I know they’re not good for me, but they taste so darn good that it’s hard not to enjoy them. They’re good in the morning. They’re good in the evening. They’re good for a snack after lunch. They’re good about anytime you want one.

They’re good with coffee. They’re good with milk. They’re good when you’re happy. They’re good when you’re sad. They’re good when you’re with friends, and they’re good when you’re right by yourself.

I’m a Krispy Kreme guy, if you must know. I’m devoted to the glazed donut. There is no better donut than that perfectly round, soft, warm, melt-in-your-mouth, make-you-do-a-happy-dance glazed wonder. I’ve had the cream filled ones. I’ve had the chocolate covered ones. I find the sprinkled covered ones repulsive.

My go-to choice is the simple and remarkable glazed donut. Don’t give me a bran muffin. You can have your yucky Pumpkin spice. I’ll stick to what I know works.

When I was a kid in Hampton, the shopping options in town were somewhat limited. I’m not saying we didn’t shop at all in town. We did. But if we wanted to go to the big store, we went to the Sears & Roebuck in West End on Gordon Street in Atlanta.

We didn’t go often, because it took about an hour to get there. This was before I-75 came through Henry County. And the best part of going to Sears was that Krispy Kreme was just down the street at the corner of Lee and Gordon.

It was the only place I had ever seen donuts being made. Little rings of dough riding the conveyor system. Miniature life buoys floating along and sizzling in a river of grease. They’d gently ride up the roller that flipped them over. More sizzling. Then a short ride to that sugary ooze that poured down over them.

Don’t judge me, but that is a beautiful sight. It’s the reason I have a life-long affection for Krispy Kreme.

If someone brought donuts to a church social, they came from Krispy Kreme. If we had a fund-raiser at school or in Boy Scouts, we would sell Krispy Kreme glazed donuts by the dozen.

My best story about Krispy Kreme donuts comes from the summer of 1969. I wrote about it when I started this blog over six years ago.

The Atlanta Pop Festival came to the Atlanta Motor Speedway in Hampton. The crowd was estimated at nearly 100,000 people. Hampton was not ready for that kind of turn out.

Long-haired freaky people showed up in droves with no place to eat. The gas stations sold out of candy bars and peanuts. The fields around the racetrack were filled with hungry rock and roll fans.

Dad came up with the idea of feeding them Krispy Kreme donuts.

Our old Chevy pickup had a camper shell on it. Dad and I got up early, and I mean early, one morning way before sunup. We loaded the truck with as many plastic containers of well water as we could find and headed to West End. When we left Krispy Kreme the inside of the truck bed was stacked to the roof with dozen-boxes of glazed donuts.

We sold a glass of water and two glazed donuts for a dollar and the truck was empty before noon. A young boy got a lesson in the economy of supply and demand.

Last week, Marion and I were at Georgia Tech to feed the kids at CCF, Campus Christian Fellowship. It was pushing 9:00 at night by the time we loaded up and left. When we got to the downtown connector, we could see from the bridge that the interstate was jammed up like a parking lot.

“Let’s go through town and pick up the interstate past the Grady curve,” Marion said.

She probably knows downtown a little better than I do. She worked and traveled in the city for ten years at one time, maybe 15 years ago. I worked in Atlanta myself when I was with AAA Lawn Industries, and I had downtown accounts. But that was 1985. I get around just fine, but she knows exactly where she’s going.

We shot across on 4th to Peachtree and turned south. The Fox was all lit up. Lot of memories there. Then we turned east on Ponce de Leon.

“You know,” she said, “there’s a Krispy Kreme at the bottom of this hill on the right.”

I moved over to the right lane so quickly I almost ran over a guy on the edge of the sidewalk.

“I’m in,” I said.

When we pulled into the parking lot, the line for the drive through was wrapped halfway around the building. The “HOT NOW” sign wasn’t on, but that didn’t discourage me. I had glazed donuts on my mind.

“How many you want to get?” I asked her.

I was just thinking about a snack for the ride home. Obviously, I was thinking way too small.

“Well,” she said. “We’ll need a dozen for us, a dozen for Charlie, and dozen for Shannen.”

She loves to feed her kids.

The line was painfully slow. There was a fella ambling around the outside of the building in a red KK T-shirt. He could have been helping move things along inside, but I suppose it was his break time. It was like having one cashier working the store while 10 other registers stood with no one at the helm.

Even though the hot sign wasn’t lit, I could smell the donuts. I let the window down just so I could let the aroma into the truck.

When it finally came our turn at the kiosk, the young gal inside put me on hold. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.” I’m guessing they’re short staffed.

“Yes sir. How can I help you tonight?”

The moment of truth had come. “I’ll take three dozen glazed donuts.”

My mouth was watering just thinking about chowing down on those soft, delectable beauties. In my mind, I could already see us pulling up to the window, the gal leaning out toward the truck and handing me three of those gorgeous green and white boxes. This was gonna be the best snack ever.

“I’m sorry. What?” This was the reply I got.

I repeated my order. “Three dozen glazed donuts.”

“We can’t do that,” she said. “We have a limit.”

I was aghast.

“Okay. How about two dozen?” This is where they make donuts, right?

“No sir. I can do one dozen.”

My heart sank. A cloud of disbelief settled over our previously giddy spirit.

I drove around and thanked the girl for the donuts and gave her the money. I couldn’t resist asking her one more question.

“So, if I drive around two more times, can I get a dozen each time?”

I at least got her to laugh in the middle of an otherwise despicable moment.

The interstate was still crowded but moving. The first donut was gone in two nanoseconds.

“If you slow down,” Marion said, “you might taste it.”

Oh, I tasted it, and it was soooooo gooood.

I love Krispy Kreme.