SB
Shaun Bomber
Nov 24, 2025
Sonic Drive-In Review – 3 Stars (and a side of existential onion-ring grief)
The food? Solid. Burgers hot, cherry limeade still slaps like it did in 2003. Service? Polite, lightning-fast, and the carhop didn’t even judge me for ordering at 10:07 a.m. like a champion of poor life choices.
BUT HERE’S WHERE WE HAVE A PROBLEM, HOUSTON (again… for the fifth damn time).
This location is in an abusive relationship with the word “large.” I’m 56. I’ve been riding or dying with Sonic onion rings since the Reagan administration. I was a carhop in ’86 when a large actually meant a glorious, greasy avalanche (12–14 rings, easy). Today? Fifth visit, same crime: I ask for a large with my combo and they hand me… six. SIX. Every. Single. Time.
I’ve counted them like a heartbroken mathematician on five separate occasions. I’ve shaken the bag like a maraca. I’ve stared into the empty abyss hoping four more rings would magically manifest. Nope. Six lonely rings, huddled together like survivors of the Thanos snap.
This isn’t portion control. This is a hate crime against nostalgia.
Sonic corporate, if “large” now legally means “six rings and a prayer,” just update the menu so the rest of us elders can adjust our expectations and our blood pressure medication.
Until this store learns basic arithmetic (or at least how to drop a second handful in the fryer), I’m locked at three stars, weeping into my half-empty bag.
Still love you, Sonic. But my trust issues now have trust issues.
Signed,
Ring Lover (age 56, emotionally 556, officially filing for onion-ring custody)