Like George Burns, "Gilligan's Island" and the Grateful Dead, drive-in theaters are the great survivors of the entertainment world.

Some say they will never die.In the words of film critic Joe Bob Briggs, who has written books on drive-ins and is viewed by many as their patron saint, "They can burn us up. They can knock us down. But they can't close the drive-in in our heart."

Their numbers are in steady decline - down to 837 screens from a peak of 4,063 in 1958, according to the National Association of Theater Owners - but experts believe they will endure because of nostalgia - and novelty.

"Nobody expects them to go away entirely," said Jim Kozak, a spokesman for the association, in North Hollywood. "At the rate (their decline) is leveling off, it will take a long time."

Drive-in researcher Richard H. Jackson, a cultural geography professor at Brigham Young University in Provo, said the behemoth outdoor screens are to America what church steeples are to Europe.

"The drive-in represents the halcyon era when kids played in the yard, before gangs and AIDS and drive-by shootings - a much more peaceful time," he said.

"The issue is nostalgia, at least for the middle-aged folks. And teenagers are going just out of curiosity. Now, it's a novelty phenomenon. People go to drive-ins because they hear their parents talk about it."

Every Friday night, Ron and Kelly Kidwell of Reseda pack a carpet-lined truck bed with snacks, drinks and their three kids, then head off to the Pacific Winnetka Drive-in in Chatsworth, one of two remaining outdoor cinemas in the San Fernando Valley. (Two others closed in 1989 to make way for shopping facilities - a common fate for contemporary drive-ins. Fewer than 20 remain in Los Angeles, Ventura and Orange counties.)

"My wife and I said our kids are always going to remember this summer," said Ron Kidwell, 48, who took his wife - his high-school sweetheart - to a drive-in on one of their first dates. "We just have a great time as a family unit.

"The drive-in is so good compared to other entertainment. It's the same old grind with the TV at home, and you don't have as much freedom at the indoor theaters."

Other elements that have historically set drive-ins apart from inside cinemas include very informal dress; no need to get a baby sitter; greater food selection (snack bars routinely stock such fare as pizza, chili dogs, french fries, hamburgers and burritos); and the option to smoke, drink and talk without distracting others.

Drive-ins have included myriad other attractions, from playgrounds, shuffleboard, gas stations and coin-operated laundries to lakes, swimming pools, Ferris wheels and even zoos.

They offer the elderly, frail and physically disabled the freedom to enjoy movies without crowds, lines or a particular building's inconveniences, and provide options for the outdoor-minded.

Reseda resident Greg Cauble, 25, and his fiancee, Carol Ambrosio, 30, who were treating Ambrosio's two sons and a nephew to an outside flick in Chatsworth, cited the benefits they see: inexpensive admission ($5 for adults, children free), double features of first-run films (most indoor cinemas show one) and independence.

"If people are too loud, just turn up your radio. And you can bring your own sodas," Cauble said.

Tim Lang of Reseda and Allan Kushner of Culver City couldn't agree more.

"We can't stand people chomping down on their food next to you at the other (inside) places. . . interruptions nonstop," said Kushner, 27. "Outside, you can crank the sound, and there are no disruptions."

"Yeah, you can talk to each other, bring your dog and just hang out," said Lang, 36.

Researcher Jackson compares the attraction of the drive-in to tailgate parties at sports stadiums - a mood for lawn chairs, picnics and barbecue.

"It's a cheap place to park your car and socialize," Jackson said. "The drive-in movie often is peripheral to the gathering."

"The Whole Pop Catalog" - a compilation of odds and ends in societal research that lists "drive-ins" between "dolls" and "Elvis" - includes a source estimating fewer than half of drive-in patrons actually watch the entire flick.

Mark Love, 45, of Agoura Hills, was hunkering down last Friday at the Winnetka Drive-in with his wife, Stephanie, 42, and their three sons, ages 7 to 12. They reminisced over the drive-in's lost camaraderie.

"I grew up back East, and we went to drive-ins all the time," said Love, who now attends outdoor cinemas with his family about once a year. "It was more fun. All your buddies piled in the car.

"We used to sneak people in in the trunk . . ." he said, stopping the story abruptly upon receiving a warning glance from his spouse.

"True Lies" was on the lineup for the Kidwell clan, parked in the next space. Usually first or second in line at the box office, the family was tardy this evening. Still, the movie-minded motorists managed to secure a favorite spot at the rear of the theater - the orange-post area where bigger rigs are directed to avoid blocking the view of people in compacts.

As the customary cartoon kicked off the evening's entertainment, the youngest Kidwell kid imitated the characters with bent fingers resembling claws and a resounding, "Arrrgh."

Times have changed, mom Kelly Kidwell remarked.

"When we were kids, it was a date night," she said. "Now we see more families."

A 1983 survey indicated that 72 percent of drive-in customers were young married couples with two or more children.

Also gone are the days when speakers in unwieldy metal boxes were hung from car windows. Now viewers simply attach a metal clip to the car's antenna and receive the film's soundtrack over the radio.

The drive-in has seen a lot of change and adaptation in its history.

World War II gas rationing threatened to close them as fast as they opened. Fear that the "passion pits" would degrade morals prohibited many.

Then, ironically, drive-ins were hurt just as much by the sexual revolution of the 1960s, which made it unnecessary for teens to employ the traditional make-out spots or to escape from parents. Bucket seats and compact cars drove romantics out, as well.

In the '70s, the onslaught of X-rated, B-grade and horror movies gave the drive-in a bad reputation. And in the '80s, the advent of VCRs and movie rentals almost single-handedly drove the business down from 3,500 screens to about 1,000.

After years of urban encroachment, escalating land values and soaring property taxes, the option to sell is becoming more and more attractive to theater owners.

"It's like an offer the owners can't refuse," said drive-in researcher John Haskell, associate dean of university libraries at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Va.

But despite its threatened-species status, business is booming at the drive-in.

"Attention is generally very strong where they are open," Kozak said. "The reason some close is not because they are not doing well; some are doing better than they ever have when they're sold. It's because the land is being bought for huge amounts of money."

Certainly drive-in theaters have their share of problems.

Aficionados such as Lang and Kushner warn that full moons and dimly lit movies make viewing tough at metropolitan drive-ins already polluted by outside light sources.

They usually can predict flicks with problematic lighting but missed recently on "Blown Away."

"That was way too dark, a real pain in the butt," Kushner said.

Drive-in patrons also face traffic congestion at entrances and exits, exhaust fumes and the occasional blocked view, as well as possible car troubles, weather extremes and bugs.

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Ushers at Pacific Winnetka Drive-in routinely deal with children climbing screen towers, patrons switching theaters, heavy sleepers tough to budge at closing time, jump-starting stalled cars and reluctantly turning away people who don't have car radios to receive the movie broadcast, said theater chief of staff Norbert Enriquez, 20. (His best tip: A portable radio works fine.)

Despite its drawbacks, the drive-in is a resilient part of Americana, especially in fair-weather states of the West and South.

"The drive-in will probably never disappear completely," researcher Jackson concludes in a paper on drive-ins and landscapes he co-authored with fellow Brigham Young University geographer J. Matthew Shumway.

"Communities that actively seek to maintain the drive-in as a part of their culture and geography will find that it is not only rewarding financially, but helps to maintain a part of our collective past that is important and relevant."

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