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I miss Drive-Ins. Let me rephrase that – I miss the memories of Drive-Ins. No, let’s try it again – I miss my false memories of Drive-Ins. For the most part Drive-Ins sucked donkeys.
Cold nights, steamed up windows, a full cooler of cheapo beer with crappy movies. Speakers that hung on the driver’s side window that played static in mono, and a whiny date who just wanted to go home because she was freezing and couldn’t stand my buddy in the back seat with his cold whiny date. Because of that, “Flesh Gordon” was one of my least favorite movies of all time.
Once I hid in the trunk with Danny Rat The Dirty White to get in free, getting CO poisoning, watching the B-movie double feature in a lawn chair with warm beer and a pounding headache. Yeah, fun times.
Years later a bunch of us piled into Pecker Pete’s van and went to a multi-screen Drive-In. By then the crappy speakers had been replaced with an antenna clip, so you could listen to the movie over AM radio on your own speakers.
Pecker didn’t have a radio, but at least one of us had seen each of the flicks. We parked in the middle of the lot and watched five movies at once, providing our own narration. The chicks dug it.
I don’t miss Drive-In theaters at all, except for when I do.
Tacky Raccoons 