Arby's

It would have been an understatement to say that Imogene Simpson was an excitable lady. Excitable in an almost comical sort of way. She could take the most mundane topic and make it seem wonderful. Her facial expressions and hand movements helped to carry the lilt in her voice as the sugary-sweet Southern syllables came from her lipstick covered mouth. She was the perfect person for the Chamber of Commerce office in the small town of Claxton. 

Thomas had gone by the Chamber office to see if a paper,

folding map still existed for Claxton. Imogene had helped him, and he found that the Chamber office had hundreds of them. In the age of GPS, Thomas wondered how many years it would take to get rid of them. He wondered if the new generation even knew how to use a folding map. 

He thanked Imogene and as he was about to leave, she said, 

“Have you heard the news? I’ve promised'em that my lips are

sealed but I’ve gotta tell somebody. Can you keep a secret?”

“I reckon so.”

“We’re getting an Arby’s. Up on Highway 8, where the old Bumper’s

was”, said Imogene, as her eyebrows danced on her head. “Don’t tell anybody. I just had to let somebody know. I know you won’t say anything.” 

“Sure”, said Thomas, “I can keep my mouth shut.” 

Thomas left the building with little excitement about the new

Arby’s. He had lived in Claxton long enough to know not be excited. Over the almost four decades that he had been a resident of Claxton, he had heard speculation of other projects and businesses that were coming to town, and most didn’t. For a seasoned Claxtonian, the general rule was, “When they cut the

trees”, or “When they start pouring concrete”, then and only then, did you started having some belief that the project might actually happen.  

Thomas crossed the road to his truck. In the short time that he

had been in the Chamber building, the interior of his truck had heated up. It had been a hot summer. He cranked the truck and brought the air conditioner to life. He sat for a moment, soaking in the cool air and then he drove away.

When he had moved to Claxton, back in the 80's, Highway 8 was

mostly trees. He remembered an Exxon on the corner, close to where the interstate exit, the Dairy Queen where everyone went to celebrate after a ballgame or straight A's on a report card, an old cinder-block, non-chain owned convenience store that sold soft drinks and candy bars and chips and the Bumper's Drive-In where the new Arby's might go.

As the trees were cut and development slowly filled in on

Highway 8, Thomas remembered the old Bumper’s. Over the years, it had not kept up and the red and blue paint had faded, and the choice of food had pretty much stayed the same. Sonic advertised daily and Bumper’s hoped that you'd had a good experience and would come back. It had languished away. A victim of modern day progress.

It had sat vacant and ugly for several years. A scar on the

landscape until the City Board had requested that it be torn down. And then for several more years, a vacant lot. Thomas had wondered who would ever build there and Imogene, “My Lips are Sealed” Imogene, had it on good word that an

Arby's would be built. "We'll see", thought Thomas. “We’ll see.”

The next day, Thomas was finishing his breakfast at the Claxton Café when Eric Larson had approached. An Arby’s in many locations would not cause excitement but in Clarkson it raised the pulse of more than a few folks. 

“Hey Thomas, mind if I sit down?”

Hank lowered his newspaper. “Naw, have a seat.”

“They’re building an Arby’s up on Highway 8.” 

“Yep.”, said Thomas. “Heard about it.”

While he had doubted the actual construction, he didn’t want it

to seem that he was out of the know. 

“I’ve always liked Arby’s. America’s Roast Beef, Yes Sir”, said Thomas.

“What?” 

“I heard that’s how Arby’s got its name. First letter of

America’s Roast Beef, Yes Sir”. 

“That’s stupid. Where’d you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I reckon it’s not any more stupid than getting

all excited about a fast-food place that’ll probably never get built.” 

And so, it had gone. During football season, the bulldozers showed up on the old lot and they smoothed out the uneven dirt. A week later, a concrete truck was on the lot and poured concrete for the parking lot and slab. The concrete was smoothed into the forms that had been laid out and white PVC plumbing pipes stuck from the slab. Thomas kept an eye on things on Highway 8, right there in the middle of town. As the winter rains came in, progress stopped, and Thomas continued his vigil on the old Bumper’s lot.

As the holidays rolled around, his family had come home for Christmas. His daughter had asked, “What are they building up on 8?”

“Supposed to be an Arby’s”, Thomas had replied. 

“Oh, that’ll be good”, his daughter said.

“We’ll see”, said Thomas. 

A couple of months later in February, construction began, and Thomas had convinced himself that an Arby’s was really going to be built. It was almost as if he were disappointed in being wrong. Disappointed that a new business was coming to town. 

Thomas kept an eye on things as he drove up and down Hwy 8. As construction began to take shape, for the first time, he looked at the parking lot and thought to himself, “That’s gonna be mighty small. Don’t see how cars are gonna park and get in and out of there.”

Within a few months, the red and white building was completed. The Arby’s sign centered out front. Red and white streamers ran from the edge of the building to the light poles, giving a festive appearance. A large red and white striped balloon floated atop the building and a vinyl sign was staked into the newly placed sod with the words, “Grand Opening”.

Hank witnessed it all as he drove down Highway 8. He saw the cars wrapped around the building waiting on a drive-thru order and he thought once again, “The parking lots too small.”

When he had gotten home from work later that week, his wife had asked, “Thomas, have you been to the new Arby’s?”

“Nope. Hadn’t felt like Arby’s. Haven’t been there.”

“Me neither”, she said. “I wonder why we don’t get more nice things in Claxton?”

Hank shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. 

"I don't know. Parking lots too small.”