Fifteen

Starbuck and I spent every weekend (and most nights) during the summer that I was fifteen up to some kind of nonsense in our small town.  We lived in a 90’s version of Mayberry, with a little crime, a few druggies, but nothing that we came into contact with on a regular basis.  One movie theater, one book/video/music store (where I once knocked over an entire rack of Snoop Doggy Dogg tapes, entirely accidentally.)  One of each of the major fast food joints, one public pool, one high school.

On account of the fact that there was nothing much to do, we’d spend time just driving around.  Gas was somewhere under a dollar a gallon, so why not?  I was still too young to drive legally (except on a restricted basis) but Starbuck was 17, so I rode shotgun.  We’d hit up the local Dairy Queen at least twice a week (or more) for Lemon Freez’rs.  These things were some sort of lemon ice in a plastic container with a lid (like a yogurt container.)  They were tart as all heck, and cost $1.45 with tax, which was a steal when one was making minimum wage like we were.

We’d each get one, and drive around town listening to our music with the volume on high, and putting our spoons on our tongues and singing along.  Entirely idiotic, but still a fond memory when we’re driving around on summer nights.  Sadly, DQ has discontinued the lemon freez’r, so we’re out of luck for a 2009 revival tour.  I’m sure the local public is relieved.

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