THE LUABEEJACK, formerly down the road from me, is also gone, and a new jail stan4s on the spot where many a lover got their first dose of wet romance, or perhaps their first dose of clap. Where once cars rocked, cons now pull their meat come late at night, or spend their time trying to figure on that big jail break.
The pole and sign that once held the humble LUMBERJACK drive-in marquee is still there, but instead of reading Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Night of the Living Dead, it an-nounces that this is the local jail, and buddy, ain't nothing show'n.
Kida sad, really.
But hey, the spirit of the drive-in is still with us. Even if it is in video boxes, or weekends at festivals celebrating the drive-in.
Joe Bob was right. "The drive-in will never die." Not really.
So, rent a low-budget gem. Turn out the lights. Get some popcorn. Get your best girl or guy, and one of you sit on the left side of the couch like you would if you were in the car, and the other, well, slide on over there close, and when you get to the slow part, like where the scientist is talking some bull about how the Z-ray works, maybe you could neck a little or do something a little more ambitious. Because, hell, even if you are indoors, if you've got the right movie on the tube, got the right state of mind about you, you're at the goddamned drive-in.
Enjoy.
And remember, when it comes to prophecy, Nostradamus, I'm not.