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Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner ca. 1973 at Flo and Hog's, a local bar

 

I would like to review a technique of sexual prowess developed with care over the better part of this century that is slowly being regulated out . . . cruising. Cruising is posted on "no cruising" warning signs as "driving past this area more than twice in any given half an hour". Its definition actually lies somewhere between the vehicle that gets you from here to there and the story that goes, "I met the man I later married at a stop light." If the car is an extension of the body, then cruising is strutting, sometimes stalking. And no section of the public has more conflicts with that body boundary phenomena than teenagers. Historically in American small towns, teenagers have turned to cars as a means of privacy to shield them from adult eyes. Since driving begins legally at 16, and sex not until 18, drinking not until 21, cars are the legal way to have the illegal behind closed doors, car doors. Cars allow for a certain visibility as well. Who are you with? Have you managed to ride in one of the four seats available in the black Trans Am or are you neatly coupled, riding side by side with your beau in the pickup truck, your two silhouettes made one through the back lighting of the headlights behind you. I remember the day my father turned to me in the truck and insisted that I not sit so close to him for fear the town would misinterpret, God forbid every two who entered became one. In cruising those in one car are a unit, a clique, of one chosen social body. This is a rough and tumble body, one that can run, wrestle, wink, throw its breasts up high and for God Sakes play football. That body, as a car, has to do the rounds. It honks to say hello, circles round your car three or four times to get your attention. It dines at the same drive-in restaurant as you to show some social cohesion. And it parks next to you in the gravel parking lot, lets down the tailgate and invites you to a seat and a chat. With a little help from the 1998 Daily Quill newspaper Police Citations, I will describe the cruising I grew up with in West Plains, Missouri, population approximately 8,000. It's Friday, Saturday or Sunday night between 7:30 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. You are on Porter Wagoner Boulevard (PWB) named after the famous country and western singer born here and better known as one of Dolly Parton's early lovers (see picture of Dolly and Porter circa 1973 at Flo and Hog's, a local bar.) PWB is a long strip of road four lanes wide, all business buildings, which are set back with gravel parking lots in front and huge brightly lit signs standing high above the road: NUWAY SUPERMARKET, CONOCO GAS, GENIE PHOTO, ABC FURNITURE, STAGE COACH CLEANERS There are dozens of cars and trucks driving in slow motion and then spinning their wheels with the utmost grace round each bend. Andrew C. Sander, 16, 601 Woodland St., was ticketed at 7:24 p.m. Saturday on Porter Wagoner Boulevard for a charge of failure to yield to oncoming traffic. He is to be in court April 9. Policeman Hatten It is important to ease you way in and out of traffic, like the flawless routine of an Olympic skater.DON'T STOP. In the summer you cruise the park where the pool lay quiet, drive past NUWAY, through SONIC BURGERS and then the VIDEO ARCADE, stop in the gravel lot in front of J and J's USED CARS, lean on the hood of your car, chat, flirt . . . . Lee M. Smith, 20, Ozark, Jason D. Lafferty, 24, Thayer, Heather D. Laxton, 19, West Plains, Max Tharon Bradley II, 18, West Plains, Aliesha B. Simpson, 17, West Plains, Misty D. Upton, 17, 9463 County Road 6470, Chad L. White, 25, West Plains, Jill Brotherton, 18, 2102 Anne Drive, Jessica L. Peterman, 18, Pottersville, Melana A. Harrill, 18, 1624 Evergreen St., Joseph A. McBride, 19, 6510 County Road 7130, and Robert Brandon Floyd, 18, 115 Walnut St., were ticketed about 11:30 p.m. Sunday at Tri-County Realty on Porter Wagoner Boulevard for charges of trespassing. All are to be in court August 27. Policemen Richard Rhoads, Hatten and Land If you've got the car to handle it you can diversify your cruising options" Wendy N. Jones, 16, 10134 County Road 8010, was ticketed at 9:31 p.m. Friday on Porter Wagoner Boulevard for a charge of making excessive noise by squealing tires. She is to be in court July 9. Policeman Stan Vandiver. or my favorite : Jared P. all, 18, Moody, was ticketed at 9:05 p.m. Friday on Porter Wagoner Boulevard for a charge of careless and imprudent driving by drag racing. He is to be in court Dec. 17. Policeman Jimmie Hatten or just plane speed: Mark L. Conger, II, 16, 9 Burgoyne St., was ticketed at 11:15 p.m. Saturday on Porter Wagoner Boulevard for a charge of driving 54 in a 35 mph zone. He is to be in court January 7. Policeman Land You have your chili cheese fries or your speed, if you're on a diet, spill a little rum in that jumbo coke between your thighs. You pass the bowling alley and into the parking lot of the radio station, listening to the D.J. hustle a young call-in request with his throaty voice. You circle round the entire one story brick cube with no windows. What the hell does that voice look like? Extreme distance flirting among signs, darkened merchandise, liquor stores you can't legally enter, headlights blinding you from any view of the oncoming driver. No matter. You know who you are looking for, driver and car are one. I came to know my first boyfriend by the sound of his beat up blue Ford Escort as it pulled into our driveway. Right before I left West Plains, 17 on my way to state university, Mark asked me on my first date. I had been an unsuccessful cruiser up until then. I was sitting in a little white Ford pickup truck at A & W Root beer drive-in restaurant with a friend, eating french fries one by one with pretty pink nails. The Escort pulled up next to us and boy with hairspray pinning back his bangs got out. Mark got down on his knees beside my car window. I relented, rolled down my window, resting my arms, crossed, on the rubber of the window sill and looked down on him. He, from under courtly lashes, asked for a Friday night. I replied, we exchanged numbers. I never opened my door, I didn't have to. And what happens after cruising, after kids decide they can't afford the $55.00 trespassing ticket every weekend? Become a mall rat, walk around on a Friday or Saturday in the nearest 200 shop indoor shopping mall two hours away in Springfield or drive four hours to St. Louis for a concert or go to a college basketball game three hours away in Columbia. It takes gas money, a dependable vehicle and time, a combination only afforded the middle class. But that's not really taking your show on the road. What can replace the mobile seduction unit, a sleek extension of yourself, projected out among your peers always ready to double as a self-contained party? No matter how far I roam away from rural Missouri, I always look out my window at the stop light and wonder how much and how little that sportscar beside me tells me about who's behind the sunglasses.

photo credits: Jessica Rath

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