It was Thursday night. My dad was on vacation and we all got into his big green company car to go see a movie at the drive-in. It was a nice evening; clear without much wind. A lot of other people had the same idea. The line to the Sky-Hi drive-in in Addison stretched out of the lot, down the long road from the ticket booth, all the way out onto Old 53. My dad was driving. My mom was on the passenger side, smoking a cigarette with the window rolled down about an inch and a half. I had the backseat to myself, but I was straddling the transmission hump in the middle and leaning forward, resting my chin on the back of the bench seat.
The Impala had an AM radio with a hairline antenna built into the windshield. I remember it had two knobs. One had a set of lines on it and the other had a music note icon. That was kind of funny because we never listened to anything else in the car except the news. My dad had WBBM tuned in; we could see the tall broadcast antenna out the side windows if we wanted. I remember the sun was almost down when the President came on. I wasn’t all that interested in what he had to say, but both my parent’s shushed me. This was important. My mom turned around to look at me.
“Listen to this,” she said. “This is history. You’re going to remember this for the rest of your life.” She was right. I still remember President Nixon saying he was going to resign at noon tomorrow, thirty-five years ago.