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Fresh-cut grass mixed with a little gasoline. Instantly takes me back to summer Saturdays at my grandparents’ house. Grandpa would be mowing, somebody had a radio playing in the garage, and there was usually a cooler sitting by the back steps. I can smell that combination now and for about five seconds I’m right back there.

There’s a little diner near me that still gives you an actual mug of coffee, keeps topping it off, and doesn’t act like breakfast needs to be a luxury experience. Those places are getting harder to find.