On December 27th, Trailhead Patrick was knocked out, while a gang of medical mechanics with sharp objects gave him a total knee replacement. Two hours later, he was hobbling down the hospital corridor and climbing stairs.
Did they also take his liver and sell it on the black market? Hard to say. We’ll see how he does.
The hospital’s last new-knee test was to perform a Russian kick dance. He failed miserably. He’s no Baryshnikov.
“Close enough,” the medics said, kicking him to the curb. He has been working hard to rehabilitate the knee since then.
Trail Master chose an expedition on the Westside Reservoir Path with its smooth, wide sidewalk just for him. Patrick said he’d test drive his new equipment if Guy promised not to drive him like a mule. (What was he thinking? Of course, TM would demand a full hike.)
“Sure,” Guy said, "no problem," strapping a 50lb. pack to Patrick’s back, then snapping his whip in the air. “Onward, ho!” he shouted as the patient whimpered and staggered forth.
Roy and Brad joined the mule team. Roy was nursing a tender ankle from a pickleball injury, and Brad claimed to be healthy and hale. Both hikers agreed to help Guy dig a hole should Patrick fall by the wayside––Trailheads are a tight brotherhood, but two of our brothers were missing.
Steve was home freezing, waiting for an HVAC repairman, and George was doing something for his soon-to-be-released film. It’s going to be a corker. The Academy is abuzz. Stay tuned.
Atlanta’s westside is booming, and Westside Reservoir Park offers beautiful relief from the urban creep. Trailheads know all about urban creep as several of us have been given that nickname over the years. Heavy rains drenched the ground the previous day, so we were happy to hike on damp concrete rather than sludging through mud. Roy is mud-averse. It’s hell on his white sneakers.
We hiked this trail in November 2021 when we invited blog subscribers to join us. (Read about it here) Based on the hikers who came, our readers are an attractive bunch. By the way, you look incredible today. Have you been working out?
The park has a few art installations, and we looked over a fence at one they’re working on–it may be a tribute to our neighboring planets or an homage to undrilled bowling balls.
We walked to the restrooms and saw welcoming signage. We wondered how long it took to get approval for the third human-form illustration. Having worked in the marketing and design industry, we recalled the horrors of approval process meetings. Brad claimed he designed the figure. We knew he was lying, but let him live his fantasy.
There are nice swings in the park, but none of us wanted a wet butt so we steered clear.
Guy urged Fio to hop onto a spinning wheel for a photo op. She posed for the obligatory photo and demanded a reshoot because her hair was not fabulous.
"I need my stylist," Fio said.
We continued past the large water treatment plant with its imposing design that looks like a building for evil overlords. We knocked on the door, but the lords were not home.
We went to the fence protecting the reservoir. This offers a beautiful view of Midtown and downtown on a clear day, but the skyline was barely visible on this hazy day. We were thankful for the clouds. The path is brutal on a sunny day, with precious little shade for relief.
Trail Master checked on Patrick, and the mule said he was “fine.” That’s a male thing––you’re not fine, but you say you’re fine because you don’t want anyone to think you’re not fine. The men journeyed on.
We descended stairs to test the new knee, being on guard for a baby carriage rolling past like in the films The Untouchables and Battleship Potemkin. Oh, the drama. Thankfully no babies rolled past.
We came upon a crop of kudzu. The stuff looks so innocent in remission, but it’ll be back soon, healthy and hungry and creeping steadily on its relentless march to take over planet Earth.
Trailheads had logged almost four miles, and we grabbed a final selfie in front of the whale ribcage(?) structure. It was lunchtime and Steve would meet us at Fox Bros. Westside in The Works complex.
This location is the Taj Mahal of the Fox Bros. empire. The spacious restaurant has fun decorations, a full bar, and friendly service. We grabbed an outside table, ordered a round of Arnold Palmers, and reviewed the menus.
Our server was Angel, who is aptly named. She’s fantastic, with a glorious smile and infectious good nature. Angel is the poster child of hospitality.
While reviewing the menus, we ordered a dozen smoked wings cooked extra crispy. (AKA “Trailheads Style” in many barbecue joints.) Fox Bros. has the best wings in town, hands down. We got our flappers dry so we could drench them with tasty barbecue sauces.
We’ve heard Magic City Kitchen at the Magic City strip club has some spectacular lemon-pepper wings that many consider Atlanta’s best. We haven’t hiked near there yet (our wives won’t let us). We gave Angel our orders.
Roy had the two-meat platter with smoked turkey, pulled pork, Brussels sprouts, and slaw. Since okra is out of season, they offered Brussels sprouts instead. They were super. Everything was on point.
Guy got a platter with ribs, smoked chicken, slaw, and his very first Frito Pie. Fox Bros. does this classic the traditional Texas way––ripping open a small bag of Fritos and dumping in a hearty portion of brisket chili. Each spoonful has the decadence of meat, spices, grease, and salt your body craves and you know you deserve. He was mesmerized by his Frito bag meal. We imagine he will now insist on serving his wife Patty’s incredible chili in bags, not bowls, to guests in the future.
Brad ate a platter of ribs and brisket with sides of collard greens and Brussels sprouts. The ribs were tender, and he used glue to keep the meat from falling off the bone.
Patrick ordered pulled pork and brisket, with sides of brisket chili and jalapeño cornbread. The silly romantic took the brisket and cornbread home for an early Valentine’s present for his Texas bride. Is he Husband of the Year? Perhaps.
Maybe Patrick was inspired by the message board inside the restaurant.
And Steve got Thursday’s special: a loaded baked potato. It’s a giant spud cut open, stuffed with pulled pork, topped with a heaping ladle of melted cheese, and adorned with green onions. It looked like a potato volcano. He was happy as can be.
We were all delighted with our exceptional lunches. The large neon sign inside says it all: Taste the Love. We did and called it a day.
Patrick had to get home to ice his new knee. You know, the one that was tiring out, but he said wasn’t, but it was, and then he kept going, but we knew he wasn’t telling the truth, but went along with it because we didn’t want him to know we knew—that new knee.
Rating: Four Ribs*
Fox Bros. Bar-B-Q Westside
The Works
204 Chattahoochee Row NW, Atlanta GA 30318
(770)755-5099
foxbrosbbq.comThe Works
*About Our Barbecue Rating System
Trailheads do not claim to be food experts, epicureans, or sophisticated palates. We are hungry hikers who attack a selected barbecue venue and ravage our way through whatever smoked fare and fixings they're dishing out.
Our reviews feature what we believe are the highlights of the menu we sampled. So our intent is not to trash talk the saintly folks who tend to smoldering smokers on hot, humid summer days. They are sacrificing themselves in the noble art of smoking meats and feeding the drooling masses. Many are independent entrepreneurs who are the backbone of this humming American economy.
Now that you know our standards, you may wonder why every barbecue place gets a four-ribs rating. The answer is easy: our group has acclaimed designers, and they think the ribs graphic looks cool.
Who are we to argue? Enjoy.
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