Foster’s Doughnuts

An Olive Street recollection.

When I was sharing the Olive Street apartment with George, we did some slightly offbeat things. But that’s not unusual for folks of post-college age.

One time I got recruited to take the gang to Foster’s Doughnuts. George had a small Nissan (before the make was called Datsun) and I had a big Ford Galaxy. Foster’s was in Glendora, which was about a forty minute drive from Claremont. I was not told this until we were in the car and driving down Foothill Boulevard. And it wasn’t exactly midday. It was after nine p.m. The thing was, the cinnamon rolls came out of the oven at 10:00 pm, and the idea was to get them as fresh as possible.

This became a regular thing. We would get there about 9:45 or so and wait for the cinnamon rolls to be ready. Sometimes they would be injecting jelly into the jelly doughnuts and our friend Dick would inappropriate sounds. Well, appropriate for what he was thinking.

Then Foster’s changed their schedule, and there were no longer fresh cinnamon rolls at 10:00 pm.

It was fun while it lasted.



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