A ROADSIDE DINER
KENNETH E. HALL JULY 31, 2017 HOUSTON
As a young Child of the Fifties, I remember many trips in our 1951 Dodge with my Mom. Sometimes, those jaunts would involve some nighttime driving, and there were no Interstate superhighways way back when.
Along the highways and byways that we travelled, I remember waving at people as they sat on their front porches as we drove by, and they'd wave back at me! I also remember those old gas stations where we'd fill up with $2 worth of regular, and get the oil changed and the tires checked, too. Most of all, though, I fondly recall the roadside diners.
Some nights, we'd pull into one of those places - you know the kind I mean: the name was in neon lights overhead, and there was always one of the letters that flickered and buzzed.
Inside, there were booths and a row of stools along a counter. On top of the counter and on every table were little glass boxes that had lists of songs that the juke-box had. If you wanted to hear a song, you would insert a nickel. If you put in a quarter, you could hear SIX selections! (Problem was to get a whole quarter out of Mom!!!)
If you were like me, you'd run right over to the juke box and watch the mechanism locate and select a 45 rpm record, place the platter onto the turntable, and watch as the needle descended. That was hi-tech back then!
Along the highways and byways that we travelled, I remember waving at people as they sat on their front porches as we drove by, and they'd wave back at me! I also remember those old gas stations where we'd fill up with $2 worth of regular, and get the oil changed and the tires checked, too. Most of all, though, I fondly recall the roadside diners.
Some nights, we'd pull into one of those places - you know the kind I mean: the name was in neon lights overhead, and there was always one of the letters that flickered and buzzed.
Inside, there were booths and a row of stools along a counter. On top of the counter and on every table were little glass boxes that had lists of songs that the juke-box had. If you wanted to hear a song, you would insert a nickel. If you put in a quarter, you could hear SIX selections! (Problem was to get a whole quarter out of Mom!!!)
If you were like me, you'd run right over to the juke box and watch the mechanism locate and select a 45 rpm record, place the platter onto the turntable, and watch as the needle descended. That was hi-tech back then!
♫ Then, the most wonderful music came out!! Tennessee Ernie Ford, the Ames Brothers, or Hank Williams would play. Sometimes someone else would put on a rock and roll song by the Coasters, or, if you were lucky, you could even hear Elvis!!! And you heard those all for FREE!
They were all there, all of those great tunes, in that neon and glass time capsule of music that still lingers sweetly in my mind.
In every roadside diner you've ever been to, there was always a wise, understanding, dark-hared, waitress named Flo, who somehow knew that a little kid liked plenty of ketchup with his hot dog. There was a serious redhead waitress named Becky who worked the booths, who was just about to get off after working hard all day and part of the night, but she still had time to stop by and say hi to a road-weary mother and her little boy.
Then there was the new waitress named Dixie - plump, young, and eager to please. She kept Mom's coffee cup filled, and her smile brightened the night as much as her cheery voice did. After that nice dinner, we could drive all the way to Chattanooga!
Funny how you remember the little things, though. What I noticed about those old diners was the small coffee creamers. These were tiny glass flasks of milk that were in the shape of old 1940's milk bottles.
Then there was the new waitress named Dixie - plump, young, and eager to please. She kept Mom's coffee cup filled, and her smile brightened the night as much as her cheery voice did. After that nice dinner, we could drive all the way to Chattanooga!
Funny how you remember the little things, though. What I noticed about those old diners was the small coffee creamers. These were tiny glass flasks of milk that were in the shape of old 1940's milk bottles.
GLASS CREAMER FROM MY DAD'S DINER IN HAVRE DE GRACE, MD
Years later, as a grown man, I got into sales, and had to travel with my suitcase and the open road.
I preferred to drive at night, and halfway through, I'd stop in at a roadside diner, or what passes for one these days, and ask the waitress to get me a hot cup of coffee to get me to my destination.
Coffee isn't a dime any more, though, and dimes are not made of silver either.
I haven't seen those little glass creamers on the counter for a very long time. Hank Williams is dead and gone - heck, so is Elvis! The music died long, long ago.
But the warm feeling I had back in the Fifties would still come back to me, even if there was no 1951 Dodge parked out front, or a neon-lit juke box around to play those wonderful old songs.
I think we all have these memories, or similar ones.
Cherish them all.
♫ As the old song said: "We will have these moments to remember!"♫
FIf you enjoyed reading this, here is a link to a related story: http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2014/04/1958.html (Dink Dink!)
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