The Pulse of Saturday Night

Memories of the old dance hall are sealed in the mind of a middle-aged bopper who remembers the magic of Saturday night many years ago when her date appeared before the door whistling the latest tune while combing his slick hair looking handsome in his plaid jacket and freshly polished white bucks. The rag-top Chevy had a Saturday night shine with its loud music playing from its AM radio while both sat close together with his arm around her pony-tailed shoulders, they laughed in love as he peeled rubber at the traffic light rushing to meet the gang at Wally's Drive-in for burgers and shakes, and then on their way to a night of be-bop-a-loopa. Boarded windows, faded paint, a fallen sign and unmowed grass are yesterday's memories of a time when going steady, wearing letter sweaters and exchanging rings were favorite things to do, she stops and stares at the old dance hall recapturing the pulse of Saturday night which gives blueberry feelings to her well-seasoned heart. (Topic: Traveling back in time)