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The famous old-school barbecue joint that spawned a litter of juniors throughout the Big D area is still smokin'. The old favorites--ribs, brisket and onion rings--still hit the spot, especially when doused with Sonny's original, thick, rust-colored sauce and washed down with fresh, cold iced tea in a foam Dr Pepper cup. This is real, no-nonsense Texas barbecue dinin'. None of that extra fuss like sissy salad bars and soft ice cream and gumball machines for the rug rats. No silly paper napkins, either. Just a tiny 40-odd-year-old wooden building with some picnic tables out back and a pretty big parking lot for eating on or inside your truck. Two wall-lined rows of old wooden armrest school desks--the kind you could carve your initials in good and deep with a pencil's metal eraser rim--are the only places to park it inside. And don't worry about sitting in the desks with little wooden wall signs saying reserved for Alberto, or whoever, hanging over them. No one threatened to kick our asses when we slid into those spots with our trays.