Not so much a favorite road as a favorite destination, drive-in movies recall memories of family fun and fun that ended up creating families.

Peaking in the late 1950s with over 4,000 theaters across America, drive-in movies continued in their heyday until the late 1960s. From there drive-ins experienced a precipitous decline that by 2020 left but 321 drive-ins nationwide…and then came Covid-19.

Drive-in movies- back to the future

Popping up like mushrooms born in the dark of a world suddenly deprived of multiplexes, drive-in movies are staging a breathtaking revival. Social distancing, cabin fever, binging on bad TV, the sun finally came out in New Jersey, all this coalesced in a perfect storm of desperation and desire to get the hell out of the house.

Emerging from the mist of a life long gone by, the drive-in movie has come to the rescue. Local town pool parking lots, farm stands, malls, any place with a flat surface that can fit at least 75 cars seems to have a portable screen  and people are loving it.

Mention portable movie screens and I immediately betray my age by recalling those tripod based shaky jobs necessary when the health teacher broke out the Bell and Howell projector.

Instead, in my town of Park Ridge, NJ, a Macy’s Day parade balloon-size monolith with a 40 ft. by 30ft. screen swelled up in 15 minutes. As twilight advanced, cars filled the town pool parking lot taking positions eight feet apart with the precision of a marching band preparing for halftime. Movie audio played out through patrons’ premium Harmon Kardon, Bowers & Wilkins, and Bang & Olufsen Audio systems. Event producer Monte Entertainment provided everything except food. Rather than the dancing hot dog snack bar, movie goers ordered food from a local restaurant that delivered.

Choosing to screen “The Goonies”, Park Ridge Recreation Director Liz Falkenstern skillfully employed the three “Fs” of successful town events, family, fun and fresh air. No submarine races to watch here.

In surveying the arrayed cars and audience, a slight twinge of personal nostalgia bubbled up but slowly eroded as my mental check boxes denoting favorite memories remained unmarked. Cars not only lacked the character lines of rolling stock from the drive-in heydays, but most now faced the wrong way. Over half of the vehicles where SUVs facing away from the screen with rear hatches raised. In the 60’s my VW microbus, alone, stared defiantly in the opposite direction allowing for my uplifted hatch to afford fresh air and a fully reclined viewing position on the mattress in back.

As to be expected and for the organizers to be commended, this one-off drive-in experience projected a sanitized joyously family friendly, 4^th of July parade-like, Hallmark moment. Well done.

However, my recollections, like woulda, coulda, shoulda memories defied resurrection. Today’s sanitize pop-up drive-in experience lacks the yesteryear tackiness of the neon rimmed refreshment stand, crunchy gravel sound as you positioned your vehicle on the viewing berm, car mounted speakers, 60-second dancing hot dog snack bar promo films, the chorus line of salty, sweet, greasy and crunchy treats arrayed across the screen under the “It’s intermission time” banner and of course mastery of the discrete wandering eye as, with cardboard snack tray of goodies clutched in both hands, you weaved your way back through the aisles of mid-century Detroit iron with no air conditioning and fogged windows.

By 2020 the dancing hot dog snack bar promos, car mounted speakers and double feature submarine race watching has disappeared into the mist of times gone by as the ranks of full-time drive-in theaters across the nation have withered to a paltry 321.

However, among that paltry rank exist drive-ins exhibiting a creative bold conviction that fortifies them in the face of extinction. I have two personal favorites. One is the Spud Drive-in in Driggs, Idaho, population 1,600.

Photographed by travelers from around the globe, “Old Murphy” a 1946 Chevy cab-over truck proudly displays a 15-foot long 2-ton potato on its flatbed. Welcome to the Spud Drive-in.

Opened in 1953, the Spud with a capacity of 100 cars may be the smallest remaining drive-in theater in America. With the Grand Teton Mountains in the distance and surrounded by some of the best trout fishing in the world, the Spud features a single screen and a ‘50s themed down home snack bar as colorfully unique as “Old Murphy.” Window speakers remain available for those wishing to enjoy the movie in a time capsule.

A good days drive south will get you to Escalante, Utah and the Shooting Star Drive-In. Uniquely situated along a green stretch of the breathtakingly beautiful and drivable Utah State Route 12, the Shooting Star offers a drive-in experience like no other. Surrounded by views of The Grand Staircase, Escalante Mountains and Dixie National Forest, the Shooting Star features Airstream trailers with Hollywood star dressing room themes for overnight accommodations and 1960’s era convertibles positioned before a drive-in movie screen that features vintage cartoons and films produced between 1946 and 1969.

Best movie for pop-up drive-in night? Has to be “Back to the future.”

As cultural icons, certain local roadside features past and present possess a mythic life of their own. Over the course of our lives they become universal reference points integrated into our personal story.

The “Evil Clown” of Middletown, NJ and the Red Apple Rest in Tuxedo,  NY are two. Without doubt, high on that list resides the Indian Motorcycle sign of Palisades, NY.

Mystery of the vanishing

Indian Motorcycle sign

Hugging Route 9W North on the New Jersey side of the Hudson, the 9W Market offers a  gourmet food oasis that has become a magnet for bicyclists from all over the Tri-state area. It is doubtful that anyone enjoying their pan fried organic egg sandwich has a clue about the structure’s first life and its starring role in one of the boldest automobilia thefts in local history.

Even from my early boyhood viewpoint in the back seat of my family’s 1948 Chevy Fleetline Aerosedan, our Sunday drives north on Route 9W never failed to entertain. Craning my neck like a hungry hatchling to peer out the small teardrop rear window, I loved the old roadhouse bars that seemed to defy gravity as they clung to the steep face of the great Palisades. For me though,  I derived special delight from the old homey gas stations as they appeared through my back seat porthole.

Of all the wonders of roadside Americana that my family Sunday drives afforded, none gave me greater joy than a weathered white Gulf station with a snack bar. Like the little engine that could, it stood proud and alone in its diminutive glory each time we motored by, and we always motored by because my father only used Sunoco gas.

Years later I learned that the little Gulf station enjoyed another admirer in the person of iconic American artist Edward Hopper. Born and raised in nearby Nyack, New York, Hopper is said to have drawn inspiration from the little station for his iconic 1940 work “Gas”.

The little Gulf station began life in 1939, when a towering rawboned motorcycle enthusiast named Henry Kennell built it as a sales point for Indian Motorcycles.

Time passed in decades. The world around Henry’s Gulf morphed into the frenetic Tri-state area. However, Henry’s Gulf remained a constant and his section of 9W seemed content to linger in 1939. One part of Henry’s Gulf though, while remaining unchanged, did steadily grow as an object of desire. Firmly affixed to the ridge of Henry’s station sat perched the crown jewel of Henry’s Gulf. There reigned the king of all signs, a roughly five foot by three foot glorious two-sided neon masterpiece that in 1939 proclaimed that beneath it could be found a genuine Indian Motorcycle dealership.

I met Henry in 1989 when I negotiated with him to film a Volvo Finance commercial set in 1961 at his, then, still active Gulf station.

Henry Kennel in spite of his 92 years maintained a gentle giant countenance. Warmly greeting you by extending a massive hand, the firm handshake seemed to extend past your hand and carry up to your elbow. His kind and affable manner like his Gulf station made you feel welcome.

From time to time during filming of the commercial Henry would saunter over from his house across Route 9W. During the breaks he would respond to my urgings to share some history of his station. He knew his Indian sign was special and he loved it.

Henry’s sign constantly generated inquiries.

Interest would often come from members of a motorcycle group called “The Sons of Danger.” A gregarious and fun loving collection of serious motorcycle enthusiasts, “The Sons of Danger” originated in the 1970’s as a creation of two pillars of the automobile advertising community. Its membership included executives of numerous automobile companies, journalists, and drivers. Names like Dan Gurney, Brock Yates and Paul Newman populated its roster.

Since the North American headquarters of Volvo resided barely a few miles away, “Sons of Danger” members including one of the two founders were keenly aware of Henry’s glorious sign. Many offers were made. Henry would not budge. Years turned to decades all the while the great Indian sign proudly anchored the present to the past from its position on high.

In 1991 Henry Kennell passed away. In a fitting continuation of ownership by kindred spirits, Henry’s Gulf station would be purchased by a legendary local vintage car owner and supplier of vehicles to the film industry, Jerry McSpirit. Owner of Cars of Yesterday Sales and Rentals, McSpirit’s involvement in supplying vintage vehicles to the film industry dates back to 1970. He provided a vehicle for my film shoot in 1989.

During McSpirit’s ownership much stayed the same. Certainly the Indian sign maintained its exalted and coveted status.

“An ill wind blows no good” goes the adage. For Jerry McSpirit Tropical Storm Floyd in 1999 fits the bill.

Beginning as a Category 4 hurricane in the Bahamas,  Floyd was a tropical storm by the time it reached northern New Jersey. The tropical storm packed punishing  torrents of rain. September 16^th 1999 witnessed record flooding and Dams bursting across New Jersey. It also marked the last time Henry Kennell’s Indian Motorcycle sign was ever seen.

When McSpirit went to assess the storms impact on his little station, the only damage to be seen was where the Indian Motorcycle sign had been carefully removed. During one of the worst storms in New Jersey history and after 60 years in place, Henry Kennell’s treasured Indian sign disappeared.

Jerry McSpirit sold the little Gulf station shortly thereafter.

Despite the offer of a generous reward, the last 21 years has not produced one word as to the fate of Henry Kennell’s Indian Motorcycle sign.

In difficult times appreciating the difference between an escape and running away often determines how we make it through. Running away is abdication. An escape is a respite that strengthens our resolve to re-engage.

In this challenging time I would like to recommend a small jewel of an escape, Henry Hudson Drive.

Henry Hudson Drive

Hugging the Hudson River while offering spectacular views of the George Washington Bridge and the New York City skyline, Henry Hudson Drive offers a startlingly rural gem within minutes of Manhattan.

Lower all windows or even better, if possible, put the top down. It’s best to cruise in a lower gear. Once finding that low gear  RPM sweet spot, the engine‘s throaty exhaust note will be enriched and reverberated by the sheer stone face of the Palisades that flanks the road. This rumbling symphony enhances the sensory delight courtesy of the Henry Hudson Drive, a narrow serpentine road clinging to the towering Palisades. Driven at night only makes it better.

This seven miles of slender two lane “motor path” weave through an extraordinary stretch of real estate filled with echoes of the past.

Many are amazed that this greenway exists considering its value as prime real estate. Credit for its preservation resides with the generosity of the Rockefeller Family. Much of this land was originally purchased in the early 1930s by the Rockefeller family and donated to the park commission to ensure that the viewshed from the Cloisters, another Rockefeller project, on the east bank of the Hudson River would be preserved.

Interestingly when people think of fjords their thoughts normally go to Norway, however, the Hudson Valley is actually the southernmost fjord in the northern hemisphere.

Exit 2 off the Palisades Interstate Parkway leads to the Alpine, New Jersey headquarters of the PIP Police and the Henry Hudson Drive’s northern entrance. Immediately greeted by a well paved meandering road shielded beneath a canopy of trees, the narrow motorway twists down towards the Hudson River. Be mindful that weekends and afternoons will find hikers and bikers aplenty with which to share the road. Ideally, visit at early morning or after sunset when there are far fewer hikers and bicyclists. That said, be warned that the PIP officials have a habit of randomly closing sections of the drive, especially in this age of Covid-19.

Property and paths surrounding the Henry Hudson Drive have been a part of American history since the Revolutionary War. The northern leg of Henry Hudson Drive played a pivotal role in American history as this is where in 1776 General Charles Cornwallis brought his troops ashore after the British Victory in the Battle of Fort Washington to Pursue General George Washington and his rag tag band of soldiers. Washington’s escape  would culminate in the famous retreat to Valley Forge.

One hundred and sixty two years later the forest above the north entrance provided sanctuary for a number of local residents who fled in panic based on the news of attacking Martians reported in the now infamous 1938 Orson Welles “War of the Worlds” radio broadcast.

Heading south, drivers will encounter the bridge that spans the tallest waterfalls in New Jersey, Greenbrook Falls, with a cumulative drop of 250 ft.

A narrow string of endless twists and turns will lead to the first section of Henry Hudson Drive to be built. Construction of the steep descent from Palisades Avenue in Englewood Cliffs,  New Jersey to the Englewood boat basin started in 1912. Tall grey stone walls form a two lane chute that snakes down to the Hudson River.

High above the southern leg of the drive, was once the home of America’s first “Hollywood.” From 1910 to 1920 most of the major film studios could be found in and around Fort Lee, NJ. Here Pauline faced her perils, D.W. Griffith shot over 100 films, Rudolph Valentino could be seen on the street and Mary Pickford made her film debut. It would last but a decade as bitter winters and cheap land in balmy southern California put a quick end to New Jersey’s silver screen dreams.

Heading south the George Washington Bridge looms high above the slim bucolic country road. Soon ending after passing beneath the bridge, Henry Hudson Drive concludes at River Road in Edgewater where North Jersey’s signature frenetic pace quickly reintroduces itself.

Sun showed its face last Thursday. I felt like a prisoner awakening to discover the door to my cell unlocked. Staring at a window of opportunity with sunlight pouring through, I would not let it go to waste. I desperately needed to be somewhere else. Storm King Highway resides in my personal pantheon of nearby roads that no matter how many times I drive there, it feels like I am “somewhere else.”

Storm King Highway

Clinging to the craggy eastern face of New York’s Storm King Mountain, Storm King Highway delivers majestic views of the southernmost fjord in the Northern hemisphere better known as the Hudson Valley.

Tee up your favorite driving music because even the roads leading to Storm King Highway will put a smile on your windblown face. From the south, you cruise up the Palisades Interstate Parkway. Heading east from Rt. 17 in Rockland County takes you through the serpentine roadways of the densely forested Harriman State Park.

Whatever your point of departure for Storm King Highway all roads lead to Route 9W. Heading north from the Bear Mountain Circle, one experiences a palpable sense of not only traveling through towns but traveling back through time. Old structures from the early days of motoring mingle with landmarks recalling the early days of the nation.

Just north of the circle stands Fort Montgomery which witnessed fierce fighting during the Revolutionary War. Further up the road one encounters the plateau overlooking the Hudson River that served as General George Washington’s headquarters and later would become home for the most famous Military Academy in the world, West Point.

Leaving 9W for Route 218 North in Highlands Falls, Storm King Mountain looms above to the west. The section of Route 218 between Lee Rd. in the town of Highlands to the South and Cornwall-On-Hudson to the North demarks the section of breathtaking two-lane that merited Storm King Highway’s inclusion in the National Historic Register of Places.

Envision a short version of “Tail of the Dragon” with spectacular views from high above the Hudson River. This smoothly paved, narrow two line squeezes on a man-made ledge flush against a towering wall of stone to the west and a shear 420 Ft. dive to the Hudson River to the East.

Be aware that you may not be the only motoring enthusiast attracted by the allure of Storm King Highway’s charms that day. Don’t meander over the double yellow. Best to assume someone around the next bend will be whipping a juiced M3 coupe or WRX to within an inch of your life.

Located at the peak of the highway’s elevation, a small pullover big enough for three cars is worth the stop. It offers spectacular vistas.

If your intent is to run the Storm King Highway back and forth, consider taking a half time break by visiting Cornwall-On-Hudson at the northern terminus. Offering plenty of small town charm, a cup of coffee and a table outside can be had at Chez Ana. For more hearty fare Painter’s Tavern and Pepettini will not disappoint. Another mile will bring you into the heart of Cornwall with its many shops, attractions and restaurants.

For kayakers or those who always wanted to kayak but never did, Cornwall-On-Hudson is home to Mountain Valley Guides. They offer a full calendar of guided kayaking experiences for seasoned paddlers and newcomers alike.

Close enough for anyone in the metropolitan area to visit for an afternoon escape, Storm King Highway is eminently capable of transporting you to that wonderful destination “someplace else” no matter how many times you go.