last love song at the valentine

"Then we walked across town to the Valentine Drive-In Theater, where the marquee read CLOSED FOR THE SEASON. The lightbulbs had been unscrewed and the trailer was empty. Harmon and Nina were climbing a glacier in Manitoba." -- Mark Winegardner.

Indiana has 23 drive-ins, down from 120. More major highways intersect in the state than any other, so picture the pull-offs, the tired travelers, the white posts spread out in the remains of corn fields.

We meant to go to the Star-Lite, which we later learned is only five miles south of Bloomington, but we ended up at the Holiday, a 45 minute drive. What's wonderful is that we could set out, on a clear night in the Midwest, driving with the windows down, the sun blushing the clouds on our right, that we could pass limestone factories and giant boots and 24-hour diners, thinking we were headed for one drive-in and end up, anyway, without turning or adjusting, at another. That alternate universe feeling. We let the mulchy fresh air in and watched the little girls prance, as I did once, in pretty pink ruffled nightgowns. We watched kids dance in the back of pick-up trucks and families toss footballs in elliptical arcs over the screen. We asked the enormous vehicles not to settle in front of us please, and tried to guess the date of the concession stand commercials. Earlier that morning, I had navigated the longest underground river in the States, ducked my head under stalactites the color of clay and strained my eyes for the blind crayfish. On the way home, leaning to the window to measure the quantity of stars, the two experiences seemed to balance each other out.

Movies I've Seen at the Drive-In (A Beginning)
Snow White
Sleeping Beauty
Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid
Terminator II
Sommersby
Water World
The Matrix