Life in the drive-up lane

A Window to the Soul

By David Feela, 4-03-06

I know it’s not much of an outdoor experience, but eating at a drive-in restaurant appeals to me. Besides not getting out of my vehicle, all I have to do after shutting off the engine is roll my car window down and order food. It’s a kind of American magic, this low-effort, high-yield dining experience. While I’m waiting for the carhop to deliver my meal, sometimes I roll up my shirt sleeve. If I press my left arm tightly against the lower window frame, it actually looks as if I have biceps. Of course, it’s just an illusion, like this outdoor experience itself, but I am comfortable with that, being relaxed, sitting perfectly still, waiting to be fed.

Not everyone feels the same way. Certainly not those with so little idle time that they have to spend it idling their engines, queued up in the lane that curves around to the drive-up window. Often my meal arrives before the SUV I’ve been watching has cleared the delivery bay. A paper bag dangles from a disembodied arm, a plastic cup makes its tipsy way toward the eager, outstretched hands, money gets exchanged, and the vehicle speeds off into the traffic. I’m still chewing my tater tots, thinking, It’s a drive-in restaurant! Why not just park and order your food like the rest of us?

There must be a reason why a drive-in restaurant would operate a drive-up window, and perhaps it’s to convey the illusion that we are equipped to live fast lives. That’s the feeling in my gut, though it could be the green chile cheeseburger. The drive-up window may be symptomatic, like an ulcer, that something unhealthy is still producing too many gastric juices in America. In a world market of resources where we have super-sized our appetites, our patience, like the microchip, has been miniaturized. We guzzle oil by the barrel, then we go, go, go.

Drive-up windows exist in most every community, and customers are certain they could never live without them. These windows save, literally, minutes in our days and consume the calories we might have had the opportunity to burn had we gotten out of our cars and walked into the actual business. In fact, with the proliferation of drive-up windows it’s likely our next evolutionary stage in architecture will be buildings without doors.

Drive-up thinking has even achieved a level of absurdity in America, from weddings to funerals. According to the L.A. Times, a California church in Tustin, Orange County, has taken over a defunct photo booth and now offers redemption to those who might be intimidated by the idea of setting foot in an actual church. Says pastor David Cottril, “The majority of people around here are Christians, but they don’t go to church.” Basically, they’ll circle the booth for a little while, sometimes stopping, sometimes not. It’s the circling that would make me a little nervous if I were sitting in the booth, especially if the cars were those older models sporting what we used to call fins.

In Mississippi a funeral home has installed a drive-up window for viewing the deceased. It never fogs up from the inside, and I’m wondering if the deceased’s favorite music issues from a speaker. Every grieving relative in Alabama who has stopped at the window probably knows for sure, but I’d be the last one to say I’m dying to find out.

In San Diego a pawnbroker has decided to transact business through the narrow opening of a drive-up window, which to me seems appropriate, because some of the merchandise that shows up at these places is rumored to have become available to the public after being lifted late at night through the opening of a distant, unofficial window.

It all sounds a little slick for me, but maybe I’m just complaining too much. America has been innovating its way into the future for generations. At least drive-thrus are better than drive-bys, where the shooter doesn’t even take the time to stop. For me the drive-in restaurant will always be a touchstone to the past, a retro experience, a reminder that when it comes to food and gas, somebody better leave the window open.

Like this story? Get more! Sign up for our free newsletters.