God works in mysterious ways. The Bible says that He giveth, and He taketh away. I ask this of
God: what the fuck did you giveth me that justifies closing down all but one of Colorado’s Del
Taco locations?

For generations, Del Taco has served communities in 17 US states and Guam, delivering top-
notch quality cuisine time and time again. In our tumultuous world, we must ask ourselves: can
we handle the loss of this staple? Can Guam?

Who was there for us when we were hammered at 2:30AM and every other restaurant on
DoorDash was closed? Del Taco. Who steamed flour tortillas to perfection without fail, stuffed
them with adequate ingredients, and sold them for $1, inflation be damned? Del fuckin’ Taco.
Who established as a Mexican restaurant and, on a deranged whim, slapped a phenomenal
cheeseburger on the menu? Take one guess.

The announcement of the Del Taco closures has sent shockwaves through the community.
“Just fell to my knees in a Chuze fitness parking lot,” said Reddit user Pancake_Shrapnel. “This
is cruel and unusual treatment,” cried Dizzy-Bowl-900. This writer’s girlfriend, devastated by the
news, exclaimed “Oh, weird” Yes, Gabby – weird indeed.

Del Taco’s failure represents more than just the loss of our state’s most delicious laxative.
Losing this community pillar illuminates how nothing is safe or sacred in this hellscape we call
life. The institutions we’ve come to trust and depend on can be abolished abruptly and without
warning. Hug your loved ones, folks – everything is fleeting, nothing is permanent.

Denverites may find themselves wondering where they can scratch their taco itch now (ew). In a
perfect world, the streets of west Denver would be lined with Mexican food joints and taco trucks
owned and operated by hard-working Latino families, each business giving its unique take on
the cuisine using fresh ingredients and traditional recipes, consistently delivering meals of
exceptional quality for extremely reasonable prices. Maybe, in this imagined utopia, you could
purchase a gift card redeemable at dozens of these restaurants at mydowntowngiftcards.com,
empowering you to support local business while consuming a vastly superior product. In this
reality, perhaps we’d feel inclined to say “I don’t really give a fuck that Del Taco closed.”

Alas, a boy can dream.

We’ve eaten our last Epic Burrito, demolished our final Double Del Cheeseburger,
crushed our conclusive Crispy Chicken Taco. We remember the good times, like waking up at
7AM to 8 missed calls and a cold bag of doorstep burritos (we got too fucked up and fell asleep
before the DoorDash driver arrived). We reminisce on totally-not-depressing solo car lunches in

the back of a Safeway parking lot, breeze from the AC converting our cars into circulating taco-
air chambers. We mark Del Taco as yet another casualty of our crumbling society,
acknowledging that the chain’s good intentions and pureness of heart meant it never stood a
chance.
Rest easy, sweet Del Taco – we hope TGI Fridays saved you a spot in restaurant heaven.