I was at the counter in the Mister Donut store on Central Avenue in Yonkers at about 3 a.m., making small talk with the clerk. I had finished loading newspapers into the vending machine there and was sipping the free coffee she always happily offered.

We heard a car pull up outside, and then a loud thud, followed by the screech of tires as the car sped away. We both ran out to discover a kitten, injured after being thrown against the concrete wall at the back of the lot.

As soon as Donut was nursed back to health, she rode shotgun with me for several years as I delivered newspapers in the wee hours. It was a time of day when there always seemed to be exciting adventures.

That’s why I’m sad to see this easily forgotten aspect of the newspaper business fading away.

As a struggling freelance writer, I supported myself for five years in the 1970s by delivering papers to vending machines and homes in the New York City suburbs. I was subsidized by The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal and The Daily News, so the money was actually pretty good if you enjoy that sort of work — which I did.