There is nothing more enjoyable than an early (relatively speaking) morning drive on the weekend. The sun barely rising and shining its lukewarm resonance at me while I drive still drowned in last night’s sleep. The streets are empty and I barely see a soul or two, fellow early birds stumbling towards their haunts for breakfast, which in my case consists of a warm cup of mocha and maybe a bagel. People like to vacillate between iced coffee and warm coffee based on the iterations of the weather. Not me. For me, the sensation of sipping on warm coffee is one of the purest joys in life, one that does not depend on the weather but only depends on me and my motivation to go out there and seek it.