A Seattle Rite of Passage: Driving Your Friends to Dick's During Lunch

Dick's on Broadway, 1 p.m. today, and as I walk away with my cheeseburger I notice a girl in a "Garfield Class of 2012" T-shirt. "Make sure you get Jessica a chocolate shake," she shouts to her friend.

One of the lovely things about living in the town where you grew up is watching rituals repeat themselves. Eons ago, like the girl I saw today, I was a sophomore at Garfield. And like her, I experienced the thrill of driving off-campus for the first time for lunch. Where did we go? To Dick's, of course.

My friend Dan, now a intellectual property attorney in New York City, had just turned 16 and gotten a Dodge Spirit from his parents. We crammed into the mid-sized sedan with little regard for our seatbelt-to-passenger ratio, and took off from Garfield on the journey to Dick's, hip-hop blasting out the windows. Two small miles on the map, one giant leap for our manhood.

And I remembered my Dad telling me about hanging out at Dick's on Wallingford, where he grew up. "Ricardo's Club 19," they called it, in a sly homage to the 19-cent burgers which were the chain's original selling point. Hanging out in the parking lot with his friends, singing doo-wop and lauding Elgin Baylor's latest performance (or so I imagine), getting that same thrill of a social life away from school and parents.

So a salute to you, Garfield sophomores, as you step tentatively toward independence. Soon you will trade school for work. You'll still find time, as I did today, for a Dick's cheeseburger. And someday, maybe you'll have the ultimate independence of retirement AND EAT DICK'S ALL THE TIME. That's my plan, anyway.