Chapter 12, Girl’s Night Out
The Desoto gave me freedom. Like its namesake I explored new worlds in it.
Turning the corner from home no one knew where I was going or had been when I
returned. With fiancée’s freedom’s allowance of Saturdays "girl's night
out", I drove my Notre Dame new friends, sans school uniforms to a
drive-in movie, usually the El Rancho. Afterwards we cruised downtown San Jose,
American Graffiti style driving up First
and then down Second Streets while they flirted with the windows down.
The rendezvous spots were Mel's or Spivey's Drive-Ins for follow ups and
close in flirting unless they snared a sucker to buy us pizza.
Parked at drive-ins, teenagers exchanged banter to get names, phone numbers
and dates. Girls from Notre Dame were reputed to be "easy".
know if true but it had its share of pregnancy dropouts. The girls may have
been more aggressive with no chance to meet boys at school, maybe they were
more naive going to an all-girls high school. I suspect, however, a car full of
girls simply attracted boys. Cruising or
parked they swarmed the old Desoto.
Parked we ordered cokes. The car hop mounted her tray on the passenger
window as I kept my window up to keep boys at bay. Sipping cokes we sat for an
hour or so listening to radio music, made crude jokes about boys considered
losers and the girls flirted with the cool ones who strolled to their open
windows until I was forced to leave by the car hop for lack of our purchases.
The girls gave phony names and phone numbers except to winners. If asked why
my window was up they explained I was stuck up or an old engaged woman. Two
months before graduation at Mel’s Drive –In my rolled up window was tapped.
He was tall with shoulder length, dark brown hair, had a mustache, and pale
blue eyes. He wore a multicolored shirt with big lapels and bell bottoms pants,
a hippy, not my type. He also had a cute smile with a narrow gap in the center
of his upper teeth suggesting mirth.
I pushed the window button and rolled it down. His voice was jovial when
introducing himself. His name was Gary, a 20 year old San Jose State sophomore.
His1965 burgundy colored Pontiac GTO was parked two rows away.
Bantering I learned he graduated from Los Gatos High School, an upscale town with upscale schools. His only job was going to school which I envied. The other girls tried to get his attention but he stayed by my window. When he asked about me I told petty lies but gave him my name. When the car hop told me to leave he asked.
"What's your phone number?"