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Jim's Flyin' Diner: It's Worth the Flight

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Written by Thom Ring

A few posts ago I shared with you the out-of-the-way destination "The Clam Box" and offered the hint that any business that can thrive this far off the beaten path must be worth the trip. Well, if that along-the-rural-highway ice cream and fried-food stand is out of the way, Jim's Flyin' Diner makes it look like a rest stop on the Mass Pike.

I would have expected that any road leading to an airport, even a small private one, would be well-traveled. My first trip to find Jim's pierced a hole in that uninformed theory. The drive was a bit surreal. The higher the road snaked into the sky, the narrower and less-traveled it appeared to be. I realize now that high and isolated make sense for an airport. How well does it apply to a diner? The hint I just offered regarding The Clam Box would seem more applicable.

I returned to Jim's recently as a passenger of my brother John as we both enjoyed a rare shared day off. I remembered the challenge of finding Jim's and so did what any modern highway traveler does. I resorted to Google for directions. But I am not a modern highway traveler. I know this. Why do I keep resorting to their dubious modern conveniences?

Having some idea of where I'd gone before only muddied up the murky Google-directed path to Jim's. After driving into the thriving little commercial center of Southbridge, Mass., on Mass., Rte 131, we passed from one end to the other more than once before we abandoned Google's printout and I directed John to head up Rte. 169 based only on the faintest of hunches. It simply led us out of town in a another direction. We reentered the town and veered right off of 169, where I noticed a side street that connected to our right before heading up a steep hill.

"Take this right," I commanded, the street yanking my memory chords for no discernable reason. Soon we were passing rural houses old and new as we headed into space. The only actual perception that seemed familiar was that we indeed were heading uphill. John tried to contain his doubt, but that became a struggle when we rolled up to a crawling tractor with thresher attached. I recalled that the airport actually had more than one approach and hoped that maybe we would back into it. But after turning a corner in front of one of those farmhouse-yards that reveals a profound lack of interest in House Beautiful magazine, we saw a simple sign on a chain-link  fence in the distance.

"Diner," it read. I pumped my fist at this triumph of old-fashioned traveler over modern.

The Southbridge airport hardly calls to mind a legendary metropolis hiding in the jungles of Brasil. Its undramatic entrance fits the nature of the place. In fact just about the only activity to be observed there was generated by Jim's. The classic diner, nestled between an attached dining room and a covered deck, sits at the edge of parallel taxi and runways. A half-dozen or so civilian aircraft faced the runway, but none appeared ready to go anywhere. This was a bit of a disappointment to two guys who grew up distracted by anything motorized that wasn't built to perform household chores.

The staff at Jim's had done its best to make an airport connection. Aircraft portrayed by the models hanging from the diner's ceiling were far more interesting than anything parked on the runway. Airplane wallpaper decorated spaces between stainless panels. One actual live airplane did return to earth behind us as we ate, but more action would have been fun and given me a better chance at an action photo to lend some more color to this entry.

But it might not have mattered after our food came. We both tucked into one of the day's specials, a generously-constructed bacon/swiss/mushroom burger with a pile of homecut fries. John substituted sweet potato fries, a request the waitress accommodated without hesitation. That's an easy thing to do when your company's change-agent is belly up to the frialator.

After we ate, one plane was fired up and rolled out onto the tarmac next to the diner. We hung around as the presumed pilot warmed up the engine. I got my camera ready as he taxied it up toward the end of the runway only to taxi back and cut the engines where he'd started. That was it. One landing and a taxi-run were not what we had in mind to document our visit. Actually, no, what we had in mind was a tasty lunch on a fine Summer day. That we got in spades. We'll look for planes flyin' over Jim's Flyin' Diner next time we climb there.

To get to Jim's, take Mass., Route 131 into Southbridge, where it becomes Main St.  Turn onto Central St. at the police station. That's a right if you're coming from Dudley, left if you're heading east from Sturbridge. Less than a half-mile from Main St., turn left and up the hill onto Paige Hill Rd. Bear right onto Clemence Hill Rd., a mile or so later. Follow it to the airport and Jim's in the parking lot.