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… who waited on us at the A&W restaurant when I was a kid are now in their 70s, or older. If you haven’t heard of the A&W Root Beer drive-in restaurants, the picture is very accurate.
Until the ’70s, A&W was bigger than Mickey D’s, as you can read by clicking the link. Find one close to you by clicking here. The one nearest to me is 29.11 miles, so it may be a while before I pull into one of ‘em again. That’s kinda sad.
I have fond memories of hot, muggy summer nights in Lansing, Michigan where Grandma would take Mom, my kid brother and me to the A&W for dinner in her ’53, then her ’57 Chevy. It was a delicious meal of a cheeseburg, thick fries in a topless container I’d salt like crazy and half drown in catsup, and a big, foamy glass of root beer. Sometimes with a refill. Let me repeat the delicious part.
My earliest memories are from around age six, continuing until probably almost my teens. It was something I looked forward to with great anticipation. I look back on it these days with fond appreciation. Waitresses, (all girls, never any guys), would first come to the car with a pad in hand and take our order. These girls, (the term used nowadays to explain them would be “hotties”), even used roller skates for a few years. It was a novelty and, as it was explained to the customers, made for faster service.
As I was just emerging from the “Girls? Oh, yuck!” stage, I was initially more interested in the great food than the servers. However, when I moved ahead to the “Man, look at those ### on her!” stage, I enjoyed the restaurant in an entirely different way. Unfortunately, I soon attained the “too old to go with the family to eat” age and it stopped.
My ardor was revived when I bought a 12-pack of A&W root beer at Wal-Mart a while back. Not only was the taste extremely refreshing, being flooded by those old memories was a treat beyond any description. Yet, on the heels of those joys came a realization. Most of the “hotties” I saw zipping around on roller skates back then, the ones with nice round bottoms and other “round spots” to enjoy watching … if they’re even still alive … are now in their 70s. Damn! All the thrill of looking at ‘em is gone! For good!
Of course, any yet surviving also aren’t interested now in looking at me, since I’m 63, but they weren’t interested back then, either. That means I’m the one who got screwed in the deal. Well, maybe not exactly “screwed”. The root beer is still delicious. Oh, and even if I am a lot older now, it’s short term memory that goes first. I can still recall their round spots.
I’m just sayin’.
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