“We need to work on better—what’s the word?—efficiency,” complained a Red Coach server to the line cook during a recent Monday lunch rush. That’s probably a fair criticism to levy against a diner that requires two stories to make its hamburgers—patties are formed in the ground-level kitchen, then carried upstairs to the second-floor grill—but the menu is laudably succinct. If you’re eating here, you’re getting the Karl’s Special (cheeseburger, fries, soda: $9.25) or some variation thereof (maybe with the well-battered onion rings). The burgers won’t impress a gourmand, but they’re exactly what you’re always being told to drive 10 miles off the highway exit in Kansas to find, by the people who write about this sort of thing for a living. The people who actually eat Red Coach’s burgers are not the people who write about this sort of thing for a living; they are bank clerks and accountants who seem very content to feast on such reliable cheeseburgers.