Hang Up the Roller Skates

HANG UP THE ROLLER SKATES

           Oh noooo! Not A & Dubs! The last drive-in in Duluth has announced that they won’t re-open for the 2024 Summer Season! How can that be?

           Drive-Ins. Those of us who were teenagers in the 1950s went to them and worked in them. The first one I remember was really more of a roadside stand out in the country in Vestal Center, N. Y.. As far as I knew, they only sold mugs of Birch Beer, that clear second cousin to root beer. Birch beer has a less sweet, bite-ier flavor and the people who were enterprising enough to sell it in their little drive-in probably tapped their own birch trees and made it. My father used to make his own root beer, until an entire batch exploded and flooded the cellar with stickiness.

           The next place I remember was The Pig Stand, located in Endwell, NY. It was a strange building, octagonal, with windows on all sides and a picture of a large, standing pig in the top part of each window. The roof had a “pagoda-like” flip to  the edges. The pork “sammiches” were awesome, with a sweetish barbecue sauce and pic-a-lily relish on a bun. The pork was crisped up on an open griddle and a sandwich cost 15 cents-in the 1920s, when it opened. When you had stuffed yourself full of pork brisket, you could usually get someone to drive you to the Frozen Custard stand. Excuse me, I need to get a snack.                                                                                

           Then there was Betty’s Drive in, located just across the high school athletic field, making it ultimately accessible to those of us high school kids who would sneak away down the hill to Bettys, for a nutritious lunch of French fries and a chocolate milkshake.

           I was driving to the Cities a few Summers ago. It was really hot, the air conditioner was going and I was working my way to the bottom of my domed giganto-size mocha frappe` that I’d gotten from the Dairy Queen drive-through a few off-ramps back. I made it to the meeting on time, stayed overnight and was just passing the “To Duluth” highway sign on 35E, when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the straw in the almost empty frappe cup start to wiggle. Aaaarrrgh! I could just see through the clear plastic dome lid that there was a real live mouse looking up at me. A big mouse. Maybe it was a rat. Whatever it was, it had worked its’ way almost to the top of the cup and was on the verge of getting out. I was in the middle lane, traffic on both sides, I couldn’t get to an off ramp. It was going to jump on me. I knew it was! I couldn’t make myself throw the whole thing out the window, either, poor thing. Panic! I had a couple of paper masks in the center compartment, so I wadded them up and stuffed them into the hole in the top of the lid to keep the mouse where it was, probably scared to death, until I saw a ramp coming up and pulled on to it. Grabbing the cup, I jumped out at the top, laid the cup on its’ side, pulled out the mask plug and scurried back to my car, ignoring all the horns honking. What did I think? That the mouse was going to beat me back to the car? Next trip, I reminded myself to close all the windows before leaving my car in the parking lot.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

           My husband’s family had a drive-in connection called “Hill’s Snappy Service”. It was started in 1925 with a $100 inheritance by Paul C. Hill, my husband’ s great uncle, to compete with the White Castle hamburger chain. The first one was in Trenton, Missouri, but by 1929, there was a Hill’s Snappy Service in Terre Haute, Indianapolis, Anderson, Evansville and Kokomo in Indiana and even one in Henderson, Kentucky.  In the early 1950s, “Uncle Paul” was approached by Ray Crock, when he was just starting MacDonald’s. Ray offered a full partnership to Paul if he’d invest just a few thousand dollars. “Uncle Paul” turned him down. No one ever said he was an Einstein. He also resisted the “sit in your car and eat your food” movement, with delivery clamped onto your car window. He wanted people to walk right in, sit

ri-i-ight down, Daddy let your mind roll on. (The Ventures) And, eventually, his clientele did roll on and the last Hill’s Snappy Service closed in 1983.

In 1957, we moved to Rochester, Minnesota for my dad’s work, with IBM. On the outskirts of downtown Rochester, there was a “Big Boy” Drive-In, home of the “Flying Saucer” hamburger. Two pieces of bread, loose hamburger, cooked, tomato sauce and onion. Mash it together, cut it in a circle, crimp the edges and brown or deep-fry it, both sides. After you downed a couple of those, you could order a big hot fudge sundae for 30 cents. Life was good. As long as you had wheels.

                     When is a Drive-in not a drive-in? The grandboys and I had been to the Duluth Zoo and we were enjoying our various baskets of fried deliciousness at A & Dubs, when a guy walked up to the empty parking space next to us and sat down on the concrete “bumper” at the end. The young woman who had waited on us, came out and took his order. When she came out again, with his tray of food, he stretched out his legs, making a “table” and proceeded to leisurely eat his lunch. When he was finished, he stood up, put the empty tray down on the driveway, threw a tip on top, looked at me looking at him, smiled and made “vroom, vroom” car noises-and walked away.   

Good-bye A & Dubs. It’s been grand!