This is the Travel Take, where Matador’s writers and editors make the case for their favorite travel hacks, tips, and personal tics.
When I was young, countless drives with my dad started at a 7-Eleven. He’d get a pack of cigarettes, beef jerky, and, usually, a six pack, while I purposefully overfilled a cup with banana Slurpee. Some chips, candy, and maybe a hot dog were thrown into the mix as well, depending on how far we were going. Both my parents were good cooks, but that didn’t change how I felt about the food on those quick pit stops. The cobbled together gas station meal of snacks and over-processed food was nothing short of perfect.