Glazed goodness.

The best kind of adventures are born out of thin air. At the drop of a hat, you find yourself whisked away somewhere unexpected.

Such was the case last Wednesday (though it should come at no surprise that something sweet spurred me into action).

All it took was this photo:

Need I say more?

For those of you who have not been to the Donut Man, let me dig deeper...

The Donut Man is less of a donut stand than an institution along Route 66 in Glendora, Calif. Open 24 hours a day, the little shack of a donut shop has been shelling out ooey gooey glazed goodies for more than 40 years. Potato flour gives these donuts their unique, fluffy flare, a delicious base for piping-hot pastries that are stuffed with rich creams and slathered with sweet glazes.

There's a reason people are willing to wait in the lines that sometimes wrap themselves around the building. These are "marry me" donuts. It's true. My brother-in-law anchored himself with a box of Donut Man as he asked for my sister's hand in marriage. Needless to say, we gave him the thumbs up. He knew the key to our hearts, and consequently my sister's.

It's hard to choose a favorite among the varied assortment. The frosted maple bars do us in, as do the melt-in-your mouth Tiger Tails (a jumbo chocolate twist). But it's the seasonal fresh fruit donuts that really leave an impression. Strawberry Donut season at the Donut Man is like Christmas. Everyone waits in anticipation all year for the announcement that the shelves are stocked once more. The tasty treat is a sight to behold: Plump red berries are tossed in a light glaze and stuffed to the brim inside one of the shop's famous donuts. It's an almost godly experience, I assure you.

The only solace in the end of strawberry season is the promise of the fresh peach donut to come. I have been dying to get my hands on one of these summer seasonal donuts, and finally had my chance last week. The moment I got the announcement, I dropped just about everything to have me some breakfast for dinner. Yes, it was 9 p.m. Zero shame. I felt even better about the decision when we got there and found that the line had only barely started to creep around the side of the building.

Within 10 minutes, I was the proud owner of fresh peach perfection, dough still warm from the fryer.

What a beauty, right? With the assistance of a few napkins (ok more like a whole pack), my fork went flying. I admit my first stab at eating the sucker was to simply unhinge my jaw and go face first.

I would be lying if I said it took even a fraction of the wait time to devour that donut. Poor Matthew, my partner-in-crime, hardly had a chance. He later told me the whole reason he ordered a second donut was because he knew I would single handedly polish off the first. Smart man. He knows the terror of my sweet tooth.

If you find yourself craving a little adventure, and have a hankering for something sweet, cruise down the historic highway for a little something fried and doughy. It will be well worth the wait.

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