In the interest of full and somewhat embarrassing disclosure, I am not now and never have been an investor in Sonic Drive-In, newly opened in downtown Vista.

So when I tell you something about it that is almost sure to draw you in, and me too, you'll know I am not on the payroll. That is my pledge and my bond; I'm clean.

What it is, I am going to go to Sonic one of these days for the roller skates.

There. It's out in the open: roller skates.

I love being waited on by people on skates. What they do is so smooth, so gliderly, that I could watch them all day. Beautiful.

I have marveled at the balance, the flair, the insouciance, and I regret, I think, that I did not become one of the chosen few to sail hither and yon with a cheeseburger and a shake on shoulder. Insouciance has been an elusive mode for me in this life.

Nobody on skates has served me since I was a teenager, or, to put it another way, for at least 20 years. I have ached for such service at such places, but it has not been on my life's front burners; sometimes I don't think about it for a decade or two.

But when I do, as I am now doing, thanks to the Sonic organization, my past comes rolling in, my youth appears before my eyes with such clarity and color that I wonder why friends and family cannot see it.

There I am at Jimchuck's, on Cleveland Avenue in Columbus, Ohio, with my pals Phil and Bill (Bill had the only car) and we have ordered and I am watching other cars and girls and skaters, and I am listening to loud music, and I tell you, this is heaven to me. Was, not is, I guess.

Seldom in my life have I felt such joy gambol through all of me, lighting up the darker crannies, cracks and corners. I can't think of the last time pure happiness skipped about inside me, bliss without blemish, believing itself everlasting.

"Don't you see what I see?" I say to them, and they look at me as if I were mad or old or both.

Look, I know that there have probably been restaurants or burger joints and skater-waiters right along, all these years, and I have been too busy to notice.

That's what growing up gets you.

But now Sonic turns up in Vista ---- go figure ---- and I hear its call and the hum of the skates.

I'll go to Sonic one of these days and see if I left my youth there; I lost it somewhere, that much I know.

Or I'll round up some old friends, ages undisclosed, and one of them will drive, the one who still has a license, and we'll order (half-portions) shakes, fries and burgers, tra-la.

I don't know about the others, but in all seriousness I am going to try to spot my youth, which I often miss. It must be somewhere.

I'd guess it is over in some bushes beyond a sidewalk, near loudspeakers, behind a wrinkled tree.

That will make it a problem. I'm afraid I'll trip on the curb.

It's probably at Jimchuck's anyway, but I'd like to look.

 

John Van Doorn is a freelance editor and writer. Contact him at jc.vandoorn@gmail.com.