You step onto Burbank Circle in Smyrna, Ga., and there’s a certain nostalgia swirling in the air. For more than half a century, Old South Bar-B-Q has stood its ground here, serving up pulled pork sandwiches, hush puppies, and friendly conversation. Back in the late 1960s, Helen and Jim Llewallyn decided to start something lasting. Their daughter, Joy, grew up watching the family business grow into a community institution. Now, Joy runs the place. But these days, she’s watching cars pass by without stopping, uncertain how to reach her spot ever since a nearby traffic light disappeared.
Construction Changing Traffic, Changing Minds
For some time, folks in Smyrna knew exactly how to find their way to Old South Bar-B-Q.
Pull off Windy Hill Road, catch the traffic light, and roll straight in.
That was before road construction crews arrived with bulldozers and cones, stirring up the familiar traffic pattern. The local authorities decided changes were necessary for the area’s growth. In the process, they removed a traffic signal that once signaled arrival at a local gem.
Now, customers need a mini road map just to get dinner.
A Complicated Path To A Favorite Meal
Joy tries to explain it as simply as she can: drivers must head down a local access road, search for the second U-turn, maneuver around that U-turn, then find the first right onto Burbank Circle, and snake through a neighborhood.
It’s not impossible. But it’s annoying enough that some diners give up and settle for something easier to reach. Joy can’t blame them. She understands that convenience matters.
When regulars start missing their weekend barbecue fix because they can’t figure out how to get there, something’s off. The roads, once a friend to her business, seem to have turned into an obstacle course.
Less Foot Traffic, More Worry
Since the light’s removal, Joy has noticed a clear dip in the numbers.
She’s proud of her slow-smoked meats and family-style service, but pride alone doesn’t pay the bills. Every day that the seats remain empty stings a bit.
A single-sentence paragraph for that personal feel: “We’ve lost that easy connection, like someone changed the locks on our front door,” said Joy quietly.
Trying To Keep A Legacy Alive
Joy’s parents opened Old South Bar-B-Q in 1968, a time when locals could just swing in without blinking.
Her mother’s recipes still shape the menu. Her father’s handiwork remains visible in the wooden booths and the faded photographs lining the walls. Every piece of décor tells a story of community and continuity.
Holly Holland, a loyal patron, came by recently after hearing about the restaurant’s struggles. She called it a special place—something more than a business, a piece of Smyrna’s heart.
In an age where many restaurants rely on flashy trends, Old South leans on authenticity.
Counting On Community Support
So what can Joy do? She hopes loyal customers will keep coming, even if it requires a few extra turns on Windy Hill.
The restaurant thrives on relationships. It’s never just been about selling a meal; it’s about knowing who’s sitting in your booth, asking about their family, remembering that they like extra sauce.
Let’s look at a small bullet point that might help folks find their way:
- From Windy Hill Road, follow signage to the local access road, continue until the second U-turn, then hook back and take that immediate right onto Burbank Circle.
Some regulars say they’re willing to go out of their way because Old South isn’t just another barbecue joint. It’s a place where memories stack up like hot biscuits.
A Quick Snapshot: Before And After The Roadwork
To grasp the impact, consider this simple comparison:
| Situation | Before Road Work | After Road Work |
|---|---|---|
| Route Complexity | Simple turn at traffic light | Multi-step path with U-turns |
| Visibility | Easily seen from main road | Harder to spot, less intuitive to reach |
| Customer Arrival | Steady flow of regulars | Decline in foot traffic, complaints rising |
| Patron Sentiment | “Familiar and easy” | “We still love it, but tough to get here” |
Joy acknowledges that adjusting to new traffic routes isn’t something an old barbecue joint can solve overnight. She’s reached out to local authorities, hoping to find a solution that doesn’t force customers to navigate a maze.
The Emotional Cost Of Fewer Visitors
When Joy talks about her family’s restaurant, you can sense the pride and love.
She’s seen entire generations grow up here. Kids who once came begrudgingly with their parents are now choosing to return as adults. That continuity is what makes Old South feel less like a business and more like a community fixture.
A short paragraph: It’s not just lost revenue—it’s losing the daily interactions that make her work feel meaningful.
Patrons like Holly Holland understand what’s at stake. If road construction continues to disrupt access, a piece of Smyrna’s soul might fade.
What The Future Might Bring
Joy isn’t giving up. She’s hopeful that one day, officials might recognize how critical that lost traffic light was. Or maybe customers will map out a surefire route and share it widely.
Until then, she’ll keep smoking meats, greeting customers who manage to make it in, and recalling those afternoons when the parking lot stayed busy and the laughter spilled out onto the street.
Could a new sign help? Maybe a social media campaign with directions or a short video tutorial on how to navigate the new route would guide newcomers. Joy’s open to ideas.
Some diners have suggested community rallies or asking the city council to revisit the traffic situation. Whether that leads anywhere remains to be seen.
One small paragraph, one sentence long: Joy’s holding on tight to the legacy her parents built, refusing to let roadwork define Old South’s future.
It’s not a grand tale of corporate empires or multimillion-dollar projects. It’s a small, local story about a beloved eatery struggling with a changed landscape.
Some might say it’s just one restaurant. But for the folks who grew up with Old South Bar-B-Q, it’s a piece of their personal history. Changing that route is more than a traffic hassle—it’s messing with how they remember their hometown.
In a community known for growth and reinvention, maybe there’s still room for a place that stands steady, with smoky scents and friendly faces. Even if you have to take a few extra turns to get there.
