When my father was young and spry, he owned a few acres further out in the sticks, where he harvested firewood for the basement wood-stove. My best Saturday mornings were the times we would load the tools into the rusty, beat-up '55 Chevy flatbed, pack a lunch, and head for the nearest donut shop for breakfast. Glorious times.
It's not surprising that donut shops have fallen on hard times, lately, especially with all the talk of carbohydrates. Also, there tend to be Quik-E-Marts all over the place, with donut cases, coffee and milk. Then, there's this plague called Krispy-Kreme, or however it's spelled. But they're good if you want your donuts to be perfectly round and perfectly boring.
If I'm hunting breakfast, I'll usually stop at the supermarket for a sandwich, one or two donuts and coffee. We've also got a great donut shop in the better part of town. A place called Lamar's, out of Kansas City, I believe. They serve some Dazbog Russian coffee. Good stuff.