It’s official. It’s fall. The leaves are turning and falling here, and we’ve even had the heat on at night, despite the fact that it was it was an uncomfortable 91 degrees yesterday. The end of summer always makes me nostalgic for convertible nights. Not especially for my old college boyfriend, but for his sea-ish green Karmann Ghia. I remember lots of nights driving with the top down out to the beach or to an ice cream place. Our dates were very uncomplicated and pretty cheap. Maybe a movie—one with subtitles if we were feeling especially artsy—or just a drive to nowhere, listening to the radio and debating the meaning of life. Nowadays, gas costs too much, and the meaning of life is as elusive as ever.

My old beau is long-gone, and my husband and I have gone through a couple of convertibles ourselves. When we moved to our current town, we decided every Thursday night was going to be our date night. One of our sons-in-law owns a sports bar, and our daughter worked there one day a week, Thirsty Thursday, of course. How fun, we thought. Grab a burger, have a beer, see them both. I don’t even think we made it there half-a-dozen times all year. We’re just too comfy at home.

How do you like your heroes and heroines to mix and match up? Do you do a date night with your mate? What was your favorite date/hangout growing up? I used to love going to Vesuvio’s Pizza Parlor. If you sat in the booth long enough, just about everybody in town came in. There were some great diners around, too. I’m glad I grew up in a time where I could just hang out with a root beer instead of dancing the quadrille— kind of like Happy Days, but without the Fonz and the laugh track…and of course we were discussing existentialism.