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Summer at the Drive-In Summer at the Drive-In
by Artie Knapp
2013-07-30 10:50:05
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drive01_400I remember the summer I turned fourteen like it was yesterday. I had reached that magical age, which meant I could get a license to drive a moped. But my parents would have none of that. They were too dangerous, I was told.

In late July, I went to summer camp for a week. It was a fun time. A friend of mine and I went undefeated in three-on-three match-ups in basketball. I don’t have a trophy to show for it, but I was proud of that. We won over ten games.

I also remember an Indian chief coming to my hometown to perform a rain dance that summer. It was so dry that most of the crops were ruined by late August. I would like to tell you that the dance led to some much needed rain, but I honestly don’t remember if it did.

My fondest memory from that summer, though, was the triple-feature-movie I saw at my town’s Drive-in theatre. There I was in the backseat with my younger brother, eating hotdogs and enjoying popcorn. My sister and her boyfriend were in the front seat. It’s funny, the little things you remember sometimes. But the sky was completely covered in stars that night. I don’t remember much about my sister’s boyfriend, but his name was Steve. And he was allergic to bees. On a ride over to our house one summer night, Steve got stung while riding his motorcycle. The bump on his forehead stuck out so far, I almost didn’t recognize him. It was scary. But he went and got a shot at the hospital and the bump went down, eventually. Anyway, back to the drive-in

As the second movie was about to begin, I needed to stretch out. There wasn’t a lot of space in the backseat. So I put my legs up against the car seat in front of me. My right foot was now next to my sister’s headrest. And then it happened. Steve reached over to put his arm around my sister, and while doing so, grabbed my right foot. I was so surprised, that I didn’t say anything. After a couple of minutes had passed, my brother and I could no longer keep our laughter inside. So I asked Steve why he was massaging my foot. You see, he thought he was holding my sister’s hand the whole time. Steve looked over and yelled out in the same way I imagine he did when that bee stung him.         

After that night at the drive-in, I don’t ever remember seeing Steve again. Maybe my foot had something to do with that. I’m not really sure. But I do know that was a great summer.     


     
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