By Jeanne Moseley

Weekend or summer nights, if you saw a long line of headlights coming into town, you knew the drive-in movie had just ended. Word of this parade spread quickly through town, and if you were a teenage girl due home "right after the movie,"
you had little other choice except to "do as you were told."

Mostly though, I remember the drive-in as a young child. My parents always loved movies, so just about anytime the marquee changed, our family headed out to the east side of town. Many times, I'd dress in my pajamas because, after all, it was always past my bedtime when we got home.

We'd join the others in line with car engines faintly rumbling while, one-by-one, the drivers would stop to pay at the ticket booth. Just as you put the car back in gear, the headlights would flash on a red and white sign that read "Turn headlights off."

You could always tell the novice movie-goers, as they'd slowly drive up and down the isles with headlights blaring ... seemingly unsure of what spot to pick.

My Dad, however, always knew the best location and the only time we'd move from that place was if the speaker didn't work. He'd bring the speaker box inside the car, rest it on the window and check for sound.

Then came "positioning" the car so everyone could see. With the speaker cord attached, Dad would let the car roll, both forward and back, until we could all see the screen. Sometimes this meant scooting closer together in the back seat, but we all did whatever it took so we were completely prepared for the big moment.

If we arrived early enough, my sister and I would join the other kids at the playground where we'd swing, slide and ride around in circles. But at the first sign of film rolling, we would all scatter and run back to our waiting parents, where we watched the newsreels and cartoons.

There was never a definite time for the show to begin; however, it was understood that when dark came, the movie started. And if the movie didn't start as night fell on our little town, honking horns would signal the projectionist that it was show time!

As a young girl, going to the drive-in was more about the adventure than seeing the movie. Dad was always good at predicting intermission, which gave us the upper hand at the snack bar. Mother always stayed in the car, watching over things, while my sister and I joined Dad for this chance to meet up with friends and neighbors.

Sometimes the movies were just too frightening for me. Godzilla, Creature From the Black Lagoon and The Blob, just to name a few, often forced me to lie down in the back seat, where I'd eventually fall asleep.

But when the movie was over and we slowly began to move through the maze of cars, I was usually awakened. That motion and my parents' voices served as a gentle reminder we were headed home. I'd drift in and out of sleep as we drove into town, and just as we'd turn down our street, my mother would gently turn toward me and ask, "Are you asleep?"

I never answered because this was my assurance that Daddy would gently carry me from the back seat and through the dark house, safely tucking me into bed.

Little did he know I was awake and enjoying every minute, already looking forward to our next family adventure at the drive-in movies.

Copyright ©2001 Jeanne Moseley