We pulled up to the Midpoint Café with a kind of reverent anticipation—the kind usually reserved for sacred sites or long-promised desserts. The café sits just a stone’s throw from the official midpoint line in Adrian, Texas, and it beams like a neon-flavored time capsule: red trim, chrome edges, and windows that beg for sunlight and Polaroids.
I was already dreaming of the pie.
Ugly Pie, to be specific. The stuff of Route 66 legend. Baked with intention, served without apology, and made famous not just by the travelers who swear by it, but by the Pixar team who passed through on their way to building Radiator Springs. If Flo’s V8 Café in Cars feels familiar, it’s because it has roots here—at a diner where every crack in the linoleum and lean of the barstool tells a story.
But fate had other plans. A modest paper sign taped to the door told me what I didn’t want to read: Closed Monday & Tuesday. And wouldn’t you know it—we were there on a Monday.
No pie. No booths. No slow coffee with 66 salt in the air.
I stood at the door a long moment, hand still resting on the handle as if it might unlock out of sympathy. It didn’t. But even then, I couldn’t bring myself to be bitter. Because the place was still there. The heartbeat of it still hummed through the windows. The signs still fluttered in the breeze. And the promise of Ugly Pie still lingered, just out of reach.
I’ll be back. Of course I will.
Not just for the pie, but for the principle. Because some things are worth the return trip. And when it comes to Route 66, nothing says loyalty like doubling back for a slice of something handmade and honest.
Besides, I already have the magnet. Now I just need the memory to match.