THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 2, 1995 TAG: 9507020161
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA
COLUMN: KITTY HAWK
SOURCE: PAUL SOUTH
LENGTH: Medium: 67 lines
It's a few minutes past high noon, and the sky-riding sun coaxes big drops of perspiration from the tourists and business folk crowded outside John's Drive-In.
Even in the stifling heat, the aroma of salt breeze and fried onion rings dances in the air around the white cinder block building. The hungry multitude waits patiently , pondering hand-lettered signs that offer an array of shakes, freezes and sundaes. Two boys with buzz cuts chatter about buying a banana split.
Put a little music from The Drifters in the background, and it could be 1965 instead of 1995.
This is a scene from summers past. Right here. Right now.
John and Pat Tice have presided at John's Drive-In for 18 summers now. And while joints like John's, with names like The Frosty Top,'' Tastee-Freez, and The Varsity, seem to be going the way of two-newspaper towns and eight track tapes, drive-in restaurants are still flourishing on the Outer Banks.
The very thought of burger baskets and peanut butter banana shakes makes cardiologists cringe. Meanwhile, the rest of us are dancing in the streets, and lining up for tasty treats.
For the Tices, drive-ins mean more than just a cheeseburger dragged through the garden (with lettuce and tomato) and a side of fries.
``I think there's a nostalgia about it,'' 57-year-old John Tice said. ``It's kind of a meeting place for people. They start talking outside, and the next thing you know, they're dating, or someone's picked up a fourth for a golf match, or somebody makes a friend they'll have for the rest of their lives.''
Tice points with pride to a window covered with photos of customers who were summer regulars at the beachfront eatery. Some are pictured with new babies. Others are pictured in military uniforms.
``There are a lot of young couples who came here to eat almost every meal because the food was good and reasonably priced. There are a lot of young families who came here because they couldn't afford to eat at some of the other great restaurants on the beach. They might eat at one of those places one night, but the rest of the time, they came to us.''
The tiny white building has also been the scene for romance among the root beer.
``The people who used to rent the cottage across the street first met here,'' he said. ``There's a couple here that has ordered a bunch of our milkshakes to serve at their rehearsal dinner. We've got some customers who come here first to say hello before they go to their cottages. It's like family.''
The future for drive-ins in the rest of America may not be the same as it is for those on the coast of North Carolina.
``My wife and I were traveling out West, and we try to stop at places like ours to see what they're doing. There seems to be fewer and fewer of them. I think we're losing something.''
And we're losing something more than a chance to buy a burger basket medium rare, or a strawberry-banana shake. We're losing places that bring us together, to talk, to laugh, to share. And places to show off baby pictures, or pick up a fourth for bridge, or meet the love of your life.
Places like John's may not sell billions of billions of burgers. But they give away something more valuable:
A smile, with an order of happiness on the side. by CNB