![](dollyporter.jpg) |
Dolly
Parton and Porter Wagoner ca. 1973 at Flo and Hog's, a local
bar |
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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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