I am driving through my hometown when I see that the old open-air drive-in fast food restaurant has been repced. I feel a pang of loss, even though I haven’t eaten there in well over a decade. I don’t think it’s the chain restaurant with its mid quality greasy fries and frozen drinks that I miss, but the memory of sitting beneath buzzing lights on a rubber-coated expanded metal mesh picnic table, looking down at the blue drink in my hand that’s almost too cold for the southern winter night while I listen to the enthusiastic chatter of my younger brother and his friends. The movie theater across the parking lot closed down a few years back, and the rest of the mall it was attached to has been echoingly empty for far longer. A town this small never had many pces for teens to hang out, and even though I never had enough of a social life to care, I knew this little drive-in frequented by kids without cars meant something to those who did.

  The new restaurant built in its pce has tried to close itself in with gss walls, but this little isnd at the edge of the parking lot was never meant to be enclosed and so the clean and shiny interior is cramped. It’s a diner now; burgers, shakes, and pies. And, as the new owner procims a little too loudly while I’m waiting to order, “expensive peanut butter and jelly sandwiches”. One of the employees tells him they’re “artisanal” and that he shouldn’t phrase things like that in front of customers. I suppose there’s something to be said for repcing a chain with a local business.

  Out of curiosity and a beted goodbye to the restaurant that once stood here, I order a mint chocote cookie shake to go. It’s surprisingly good, and I toy with the idea of coming back sometime for their mint cream and peanut butter pie with chocote crust.

  What can I say, I like mint chocote.