I've driven by the Dixon Drive In all my life. It's on A St just before Main, on the way after the freeway exit to Grandma's house. It's the iconic farm town burger joint. Opened in 1967, it hasn't changed since I was a nine year old from Berkeley, looking out from the back seat onto the sunny street of the small town that wanted Reagan for Governor and hated hippies.
Grandma died in 1979, her house was sold, I no longer went to Dixon much. But the drive in remains. When I do happen by and see it, I feel a tiny little connection to the past. Way past. My last active memory of the place is a conversation in the parking lot about my Mustang, thirty two years ago. (Even then I was slightly shocked when the guy used the term "nigger-rigged". He was referring to what we would call a "poor man's" solution to whatever. I don't remember if he was talking about his car or mine.)
I know some day it will get torn out or at least "remodeled", which is the same thing. I'll miss it then. So why not appreciate it now? Check out the amenities in this web-attempt at viable small-town journalism. Can you get more wonderfully, lovably basic?
Dixon Drive In at Dixon Patch
3 comments:
Looks a lot like some of the old hang-outs where I came of age so, yeah, I got that wispy wistful near-nostalgia kind of feeling just looking at those photos. And somewhere in the back of my brain Johnny Cougar was telling me 'bout Jack 'n Diane and the Tastee Freeze. Was he still Johnny Cougar, or had he reclaimed his real name by then?
So today I wandered the aisles of a super huge, super clean, super full-of-expensive-crap Babies R Us and got a similar wispy wistful near-nostalgic feeling. When I was preggers, shopping for baby stuff. When I had small childses, shopping for kidlette stuff. When I had less small childses, going to Toys R Us every frickin' winter to stock up on the hot new toys for Xmas -- I was the official shopper for all of my slightly older relatives who sent me checks so they wouldn't have to go out to buy gifts the kids would hate.
But the sort of semi-sense of loss, that I don't have a wee one around, and looking at the oh-so-cute Africa-themed crib bedding made me want to cry.
But. I came home to my tidy, organized, comfortable home and there were no Barbie shoes nor Legos strewn about and I got over the nostalgia right quickly.
Toys-R-Us always made me emotional, and probably still would, for reasons even weirder than raising kids.
Let's take a road trip. Dixon, the farm country, the river and delta and levees and canals. There's a lot to see.
I like seeing stuff.
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