Eight-Wheel Drive

On a Saturday night, the giant, orange brick building at Des Plaines, Ill., sounds like an axle factory on overtime. In fact, though its name is the Axle, the place is a roller rink, one of hundreds of new skating palaces that are riding a revival of the sport reminiscent of its Gay Nineties' heyday.

Not since the early '40s has roller skating enjoyed such a boom: an estimated 18 million teen-agers and young adults have discovered the delights of eight-wheel drive. Schools across the country are scheduling skating classes and turning gymnasiums into makeshift rinks. The Parsippany-Troy Hills, N.J., school system recently bought 1,800 pairs of skates for student use. New Mexico State University in Las Cruces even gives credits for skating, and the Boy Scouts have introduced a roller merit badge. But the majority of skaters have been lured by the garish, ultramodern rinks that are becoming as much a part of the American scene as drive-in movies or McDonald's. Since 1970 more than 400 rinks have opened--150 last year alone--many of them in suburban shopping centers in such heartland cities as Chicago, Omaha and Columbus. Moreover, gasoline shortages, which will keep many Americans from driving to lakes and beaches this summer, are expected to keep the rink business rolling higher than ever.

Gutsy Oldsters. The new emporiums bear little resemblance to the tumbledown, teen-age hangouts of the '40s. They have psychedelic curving walls, neon lights and screaming stereo sound. Many rollerdromes are equipped with game rooms, dance floors, and pro shops that sell skates and carrying cases on easy-payment "rollaway" plans. Admission averages between $1.25 and $1.50, plus 75-c- to rent a pair of tan leather precision skates.

Every evening around 8 o'clock, carloads of teens pull up to busy rinks like the Axle, which are quickly gaining a reputation as the hottest pickup spots in town. Hot-eyed young swingers--or gliders--cruise the maple oval surveying the field, then choose partners for "couples only" spins round the rink.

Though teens clearly run the show at most Midwestern rinks, many physical fitness buffs have taken to the sport, which is easier on the ankles than ice-skating. Says one enthusiast: "You can roller skate for five hours without getting tired." Gutsy oldsters are also gradually invading the rinks, eager to brush up on fancy footwork learned back in the '30s--notably the "spread eagle" and the "mohawk," turning movements used to reverse direction. The management often obliges by playing such nostalgic tunes as Tea for Two, Rambling Rose and Heart of My Heart.

Parents in particular appreciate the new "clean" image projected by the rinks. Roller-derby and other rough-house competitions are generally outlawed, and at many of the large rinks, crews of guards patrol the floor, ousting reckless speedsters and troublemakers. Off-duty policemen or uniformed private guards stationed at the door adamantly refuse admission to anyone with a hint of liquor on his breath, and a strict dress code prohibits ragged jeans, bare midriffs and motorcycle jackets. Says Thomas Brown, manager of the Alexandria Roller Skating Rink in Alexandria, Va.: "With all these lousy X-rated movies you can't let the kids go to, it's no wonder business is so good. Skating is the cheapest, cleanest form of recreation around."

Many other rinks round the country hope to lure young mothers by giving free or cut-rate skating classes to preschoolers. One rink has mounted a wedding on wheels. Some rent out the entire skating floor on uncrowded week nights to local community groups and private clubs for an average cost of $250. One night a busload of priests and nuns from the Chicago diocese arrived to kick up their heels and habits at a suburban rink. They pirouetted jauntily round the floor, and before long had dubbed themselves--what else--the "holy rollers."

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