I love places like this. Weathered Americana. We were heading back from a cavern trip to southern Ohio, and passed this drive-in movie relic on US-68, just outside Kenton. Man, I wished we had passed it a little later in the night, I would have loved for my kids to see Transformers in a place like this. You can’t see it in the picture, but there is a shabby little playground at the back. That old drive-in really stirred the memories, one in particular. Way, way back, in the last century, my mom, never a movie expert by any means, took me and my brother to a drive-in. I was seven and my brother Larry was nine. The movie my mom took us to? *Night of the Living Dead.* Ha ha ha. She thought it was just going to be some silly Sir Graves Ghastly-type monster movie. . .next thing you know, a little girl is eating her mother’s entrails!!! My brother and I loved it, mom was mortified. Yeah, back then there was Vietnam and Manson girls and race riots and all that, and that probably ain’t even the half of it, but I remember America, back at the time when I was watching that little girl snack on her mother’s guts, as a less vicious place. Was it really? Who knows? What is truth, as Pilate asked?
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