A restaurant review, sort of

By Eddie Whitlock

​I got together with my sister Cathy recently. We hadn’t seen each other since Christmas, so it was overdue. Because we live two hours apart, we agreed to meet halfway, which put us in Social Circle, Georgia.

​During the lunch with our spouses, Cathy and I reminisced about our parents and one particular place we visited often as children.

​Our dad, among several jobs, bought and sold used cars. Generally, he would buy a car that needed work, do the work, and sell it for a small profit.

​He had a gas station and garage. In the sixties and early seventies, he sold quite a few cars there. Many of the cars were bought from neighbors. A few were bought at sheriff’s sale auctions.

​All the cars didn’t come from our little town, though. My father would regularly go to the Saturday night sale at the Bishop Brothers Auto Auction on Stewart Avenue in Atlanta. The whole family went along.

​The Car Sale, as we called it, was quite an event. It was held inside a building shaped something like a high school gymnasium. On the west side were bleachers where viewers sat and watched. Cars entered through the huge doors on the north side, paused in the middle to be auctioned, and exited out the doors on the east side.

​The place was wonderfully loud and filled with exhaust fumes.

​This was the late 1960s. Nobody had ever heard of a catalytic converter. The place would be so hazy, it was hard to see all the way across the building.

​My father, ever the wheeler-dealer, would buy cars and repair them. Then he would take them to the Car Sale and turn a profit on them. He was really good at this.

​One of his strategies was to bring someone along to help bid up the price of the car he was selling. For a while, his wingman was my mother’s father, Poppa Mack.

​Poppa Mack spent a few months in the DeKalb County Jail in the 1940s. I’m not sure what his crime was, but I do know that he kept his “Trustee” badge after he got out; it was something he was proud of.

​Poppa Mack helped my father get more than he would have otherwise for used cars several times. One night, though, he got carried away and outbid the other person. That meant that not only did my father lose the sale, he had to pay a percentage of the sale price to the Bishop Brothers, along with the entry fee he had already paid.

​It was a long ride home that night.

​Most of our visits to the Car Sale were good, though. Daddy would bring a car or two and leave with cash money. That was the goal, and it was usually met.

​There were also the times he went there to buy cars. I remember one horrible night when he bought a car and had my mother drive us home while he followed. We got home an hour later and waited.

​We waited a long time. Finally, we got a phone call. The car my father had bought conked out in Jonesboro. We drove back to get him.

​The car had died near a business on Highway 19/41 called “Upside-Down Charlie’s Mobile Homes.” The manager of the place was still there, doing paperwork in the office. My father had knocked on his door and asked to use the phone. When we got there, the manager and my father were having coffee.

​Daddy went back the next day, towed the car home, and eventually repaired it and sold it. He made a profit on it, of course.

​The Bishop Brothers Auto Auction holds a special place in my childhood memories.

​But not because of the cars.

​I haven’t mentioned the south side of the building. That’s where the café was.

​We didn’t always get to eat at the café. We didn’t have the money. When we did, though, it was glorious.

​They served a chiliburger that – until recently – could not be rivaled in my mind.

​It was what is marketed now as a “smashburger,” but it was covered with chili con carne. It was so greasy, it would soak through a ceramic plate. And it came with fries.

​The memory of those Car Sale chili burgers was one of my happiest.

​Last weekend, my sister and I were overdue to get together. She and her husband live in Henry County, so we met halfway. Our destination was The Tin Plate Restaurant in Social Circle, Georgia.

​We arrived early, and they had just opened. The staff were attentive and helpful. The waitress had recommendations beyond what was on the menu or in the upsell briefing. I ordered a chili burger with fries.

​Friends, I was transported. This thing was a huge hamburger with perfect chili and crispy fries on the side. I have watched many episodes of “Chopped,” so I consider myself something of a gourmand. This was a delicious burger.

​I want to note that it was not greasy, like the ones at the Car Sale were. It was a perfect burger. Because of the chili and my advanced age, I expected to have repercussions, but I did not. It was a big meal, and though I had it at noon, I didn’t eat another meal the rest of the day.

​So, I guess this reflection on a place from my childhood is really a restaurant review. Five stars and high recommendations to The Tin Plate in Social Circle.

​The only thing that might have made that chili burger better would be if they filled the restaurant with car exhaust. But that’s probably not a good idea.

Eddie Whitlock is a Georgia native, a graduate of UGA, and wannabe writer. He retired in 2021 from the Athens-Clarke County Library, where he worked as coordinator of volunteers, community service supervisor, and vending machine scapegoat.