Dad's Bravery

          Imagine three kids racing for the family car, jostling, okay, shoving each other as they hollered,"Shotgun!" Our father had announced he had a treat planned for us and all we had to do to discover this surprise involved our following his command that always signaled something fantastic. When he pushed back his chair from the supper table, jangled the car keys and ordered, "Say goodbye to your mother," we hustled. At the ol' Pontiac we hip-checked each other as we scrabbled to climb into the front passenger seat. The two 'losers' were left to grumble and tumble into the back.
          Dad had not teased us with any clues. We had no idea where we were going. Could the impromptu ride end at a store offering ice cream? Perhaps we'd stop at the park to run around and burn off some energy? Our questions hung in the air unanswered. My younger brother and sister amused themselves lowering and raising the windows, cranking the handle over and over.
          I swung my legs and shimmied back and forth on the slippery vinyl. No seatbelts cinched us tight, or restricted our movements. They would become mandatory in the distant future.
          Before our fidgeting ' got on dad's last nerve' he steered off the road and braked behind a line of vehicles, red tail lights glowing. We could see bobbing heads. In fits and starts we inched forward towards a strange shed-like structure with a sign 'Box Office.' When we stopped beside it, Dad nodded at the young woman who leaned out an open window.
          "Three kids and me," he drawled.
          He chuckled when she shook her head. "You're brave."
          With four white tickets clutched in one hand, our chauffeur nudged our chariot under an arch of twinkling rainbow-hued bulbs. A ginormous field, an open area of gravel and grass spread out in front of us. Parked cars and trucks stretched in rows. The most gigantic all white screen rose up from the ground. Children scampered and shrieked as they climbed yellow metal slides, or swung from blue swings. The chains clanked and squeaked. Our noses twitched as we smelled fresh popcorn.
          Dad maneuvered into a spot next to a black metal pole topped by a black box tethered by a cable. As he pulled this box into the car and then hooked it to his window Dad proclaimed, "Welcome to the drive-in. Wanna see some movies?"
          After fiddling with a switch music emanated from the speaker box. Our heads swiveled to see everything. Dad shooed us away to join the kids at the playground. According to him, the first movie would not start until 'dusk.' We shrugged. Whatever dusk was it hadn't happened yet.
          We whooped it up until the sun faded and something magical occurred. Flickering lights illuminated that humongous screen. Our lengthening shadows shared space with dancing, flipping cartoon hot dogs. Candy and popcorn marched in a parade of snack foods pounding drums and blowing bugles. We learned this cartoon signaled the first movie would now begin. Car horns blared and headlights flashed. We kids raced back to join our father.
          He greeted us with a cardboard tub of fresh, buttered popcorn. Dramatic music boomed and words skipped across the screen. Now I recognize this to be opening credits.
          As the sky darkened and the moon rose figures battled before our unblinking eyes. Apes dressed in clothing spoke. They spoke English. They expressed emotions. They imprisoned people. They seemed bemused by their captives. We were viewing Planet of the Apes, the original version. Kind of a twist for impressionable kids.
          After this first movie finished and during a pause, Dad encouraged us to settle down and sleep. From somewhere he'd produced blankets and pillows. Sleep? We had other plans. We wrestled. We kicked. We tickled. We jumped from the back seat to the front seat, and vice versa.
          At some point during the second film my baby sister gave in. Without a whimper she curled up and succumbed to slumber. I could not. The bigger-than-life moving pictures, the non-stop action, the rousing score , the dramatic dialogue keyed me up. I became hooked, engrossed, fascinated. Sleep? Impossible!
         I enjoyed every moment of that first introduction to the drive-in.           704 words