OZONERS

Thanks for pointing out that the drive-in theater is one American dinosaur that hasn’t yet sunk forever into the primordial muck (“Paradise by the Dashboard Light,� by Chris Willman, May 28).

There’s an archaic pleasure to be found at the surviving drive-ins. You can watch two first-run movies for half the price, eat your dinner, control your own volume and you don’t have to listen to people talk. The only thing you hear is an occasional barking dog or a passing jet, and of course there are the neighborhood cats, who prowl the lot in search of food, their fur illuminated by the ghostly flicker from the giant screen.

DOUGLAS SOESBE

Los Angeles

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Loved your article on that most beloved of endangered species, the drive-in.

As longtime Calendar readers, we know that nothing beyond east of L.A. County matters, but you did those of us in the Inland Empire a great disservice--you failed to mention our own beloved Mission Drive-In!

With four (count ‘em four) big screens, the Mission has all the classic elements of a great drive-in: noisy freight trains, mice scrambling for popcorn between movies and cars honking their horns to salute onscreen nudity!

Remember--it opens at 7 and showtime’s at dusk!

PAT JANKIEWICZ

ALLEN CALLACI

Upland

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What a rush! Willman’s article sparked such romantic feelings for the drive-in that I pointed the Torino south toward Westminster and while watching “Mad Love� at the Hi-way 39 Drive-In, my wife and I acted out the title in the back seat. Thanks, Chris.

By the way, does anyone notice that no one ever calls them drive-in films ?

MARK PITTA

Hollywood

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Your story on the fading institution of the drive-in movie brought back a few memories: as a strait-laced teen-ager in the 1950s, the drive-in was one of my principal forms of entertainment.

Perhaps I wasn’t too strait-laced, since I didn’t turn up my nose at occasionally sneaking into a show. Didn’t have quite enough money for everyone’s admission? Hey, no problem. The car trunk was pretty big. And the slight chance of getting caught just added to the fun.

Once, my three sisters and I even answered the age-old question of just how many giggling females could fit into the trunk of a 1950 Ford. A girlfriend drove the car and we four (stifling laughter and claustrophobia) somehow scrunched ourselves down long enough for the trip through the entrance, where our friend stopped at the dark, empty back row so we could creep out.

What fun!

MELE BOND

Oak Hills