Beaten by a Roy's Chocolate Shake

When you throw a post out into the blogosphere, you never know how it will resonate.

Some posts are hot for a day or a week or, with a controversial one, even months (the one about EatingRichmond will seemingly never die).

And sometimes I have to think that it's the subject that makes it a perennial favorite. Two of my most consistently popular pages are the one about Roy's Big Burger, here, and the one about the Grill at Patterson and Libbie, here. Months after they were written, readers continue to find them and sometimes even comment on them.

Such was the case recently with the Roy's post and the reader must have liked what he read because he became a follower.

In fact, reading his tribute to Roy's got me in the mood for grease-soaked parchment paper with a cheeseburger inside enjoyed from within the confines of my car. You know, the true Roy's experience.

It wasn't hard to find a willing partner for a late afternoon burger, at least not once I mentioned it would be at Roy's.

Turns out my friend had had many a childhood burger there, although never a milkshake. Once I described the shakes to him, he was all about a 3:00 "snack."

At the point when the cashier asked him whether he wanted a large or small shake, he looked confused. The cook in the back held up the small cup for reference's sake and Friend at least had the sense to guffaw.

"Large, please," he said with the false authority of someone who had never tasted their milkshakes. He was sure he could conquer a large.

Once I had come up for air after inhaling my cheeseburger and half the large fries, he glanced over at me. "Ketchup on your lip," he told me, crumpling his paper.

"Milkshake only half-gone," I reminded him, knowing his issue was less easily solved than mine.

Handing him the milkshake's still-plentiful remains when I dropped him off, he looked beaten. "Can't do it," he admitted.

Many can start, but not all can finish. Roy's milkshakes. Yea, that's what I was talking about.

Roy's Big Burger Delivers

Months after being advised to visit Roy's Big Burger, here, I finally made it to Northside for lunch there.

Anticipating long lines and men eating in their cars, we were surprised not to find the former but amazed to see the latter in spades.

There were two lone people waiting for pick-up when we arrived, but that was it.

I didn't even know they did hot dogs, but obviously I wasn't at a place called Roy's Big Burger for a dog.

Nope, I wanted a cheeseburger with grilled onions (my favorite burger add-on), fries and a chocolate shake.

The only difference between my friend's cheeseburger and mine was in the condiment department; I opted out of mayo and he declined ketchup.

We admired the rock sitting next to RBB's order checks (a legal pad), labeled "Security Department."

No doubt a deterrent, I have to assume that that's just how things are done in Lakeside.

Standing there waiting for our number to come up, I admired the simplicity of Roy's, a place that looks virtually unchanged from the vintage photograph of it in the window.

You know, the one with the sign advertising "35-cent quarter pound burgers on Merita rolls."

The car in the picture is clearly of another gas-guzzling era and the customers milling about are distinguished by how much better dressed they were than today's customers.

Well, that and none of them were obese.

When our order was ready, we took it to nearby Bryan Park rather than join the parking lot lunchers, who really were all men.

It's one thing to eat in your car at John's Drive-in at the beach with the ocean just across the street, but frankly there wasn't much appealing about eating alongside scenic Lakeside Avenue.

Shelter #3, on the other hand, provided tables and a shady escape on a sunny day.

I loved that the shelter had two enormous fireplaces at either end.

My friend commented on how wonderful and warm it would be in that shelter with both of them going on a cold day, making for a warm cold day.

That reminded me of how in my college days when my electricity was included in my rent, I would run the a/c but have all the windows open, to enjoy cool heat.

Luckily I outgrew that frivolous habit, but I think the concept is similar.

The glassless windows provided park views all around us.

It was a most pleasant place to unwrap our parchment paper-wrapped burgers and start sipping possibly the darkest chocolate shake I've ever sucked trhough a straw.

I don't know what I appreciated more, my greasy fingers or the grease stain left by my burger on the paper.

Either way, I scarfed mine down, along with fries and way too much milkshake (the beauty of which is enjoying dessert right along with the meal) while my manly friend ate only part of his burger and then wrapped up the rest for later.

So much for my dainty feminine appetite.

Afterwards, we watched two guys with red mohawks playing Frisbee golf and a less distinct-looking group of guys throwing things at a tree trying to retrieve someone's disc.

I'm no athlete, but clearly there are different hazards to Frisbee golf than the ball kind.

The only hazard to Roy's that my friend and I could think of was that a meal like that might put a person in need of a nap.

Or a coronary bypass, but the nap sounds so much more enticing.