"Hello Harley Burger?"

When I was in middle school, maybe high school, I would think to myself that when I came back to town from college, my first stop would be Harley's Burgers.

Located literally right around the corner from my parent's house, Harley's was a staple growing up. While working on the bathroom, redoing my room, or building the garage; we'd always head to Harley's for our quick food needs.

The old-fashioned-looking drive-up diner was owned and run by Harley and his wife, Kim, two wonderful old people who cooked up great burgers and delicious Chinese food. When you'd call to place an order Kim usually answered with the familiar refrain, "Hello Harley Burger?" After telling her what you'd like to order she'd half ask, half instruct you by saying, "OK, you come now."

When I'd walk up to get food she'd hand it to me and ask how my parents were. We'd chat briefly and as I walked away, back toward home, I'd always pop one of the crinkle-cut french fries in my mouth.

But I never went there on weekends home from college. About two years before I moved to L.A., Harley and Kim retired. They were going to spend some time with their daughter's family in Orange County and then drive around the country, visit China for a while and just generally enjoy having more than one day off a week (Sunday) for the first time in as long as I can remember.

They sold the restaurant to a young Asian couple and we gave them a shot. Within a month it was too different. The burgers were round now, not square; the chow mein less noodley somehow; and worst of all, the fries were straight cut.

We stopped going.

But lately I've been wondering. Is it still that bad? After all, the window still has the "Best Burgers in Town" paint displayed blatantly without any source or evidence (I would bet that Best Burgers about a mile away would take particular issue with that declaration). So I called up today for lunch. It was too rainy outside for me to make the sandwich I had been planning on and I've been wanting a quarter-pound hamburger with cheese no mayo no onion and a small fry which is what I told the old woman who answered the phone.

I walked up about four minutes later, said hello to a new old Asian woman and saw no sign of the young couple who shook my world years ago. After paying less than five dollars for my food I walked away holding a white paper bag, reached inside, and pulled out a crinkle-cut fry.