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When I was in college, it was all about the parties and late night conversations about the meaning of life and how to solve the problems of the world. I don’t think I went to one after high school. I don’t know when the drive in began to die. I remember having people hide in the trunk and the bottom of the backseat so we could get in cheaper I remember the crackling of the speakers and I remember having a lot of fun, although any specifics now escape me. I no longer remember his name, but I do remember the thrill of breaking the rules. Those were the days of switching cars and hanging out with the guy I was absolutely forbidden to see. We knew the dialog, the songs, and all of John Travolta’s moves.Ī few years later, we were able to drive to the drive in. And that particular summer, we danced and sang along with Saturday Night Fever, never tiring of seeing the movie. I felt so grown up hanging out in the car with my friends. Later they’d return and drive us all home. None of us could drive yet, so someone’s parent would take us into the drive in, leave us there, and take off in another car. Once there, I would eat some popcorn and promptly fall asleep.īut by 1977, the drive-in was a place I went to with friends.
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I’d get to play until the movie started and then had to head back to the car. As a kid, it was an opportunity to wear my PJs while playing on the swings and slides and teeter totters that were behind the big screen. I have so many wonderful memories of going to the drive in. There aren’t many, hell, there might not be any drive ins left these days, but back then they were where we made out and sometimes watched parts of a movie. Not only did listening to those Donna Summer songs and memories of Saturday Night Fever take me back in time, they reminded me about one of my favorite places that summer: the drive in. (That Robin Gibbs died this week only added to my nostalgia.) I fell in love with Barry Gibb and his hairy chest, and I taught a kid I was babysitting that while the Bee Gees were good, they were covering the Beatles who were much, much better. I loved that movie and probably saw it a dozen times that summer. That was the summer Saturday Night Fever hit the big screen. Back to the 1970’s and the summer of 1977 to be exact. That said, I liked Donna Summer’s music, and listening to the videos of her songs posted to Facebook that day I was transported back in time. I was and am a fan of rock n’ roll, the blues, jazz, and alternative (and by that I mean REAL alternative). Now, I was never a disco fan, and I never went to a disco to dance. The day Donna Summer died, “Hot Stuff” was in my head for hours.
