Loving the penguin before it was cool

Residents of my neighborhood in Charlotte have been fans of The Penguin Drive-In for years. It's not really a drive-in restaurant anymore, but its history is a large part of its charm. Elvis is still on the juke box, as well as modern rock and roll. Families go there after soccer games or church, and then it slowly morphs as the night goes on to a more rowdy place, with beer and mixed drinks. Some nights in summer, alternative bands play in the parking lot, and the party spills into the street.
It has neon as well as this sign, and right-wing bumper stickers over the bar. One sign, "Thank a vet," has no irony attached.
The Penguin started as a greasy spoon drive-in, with no enclosed sit-down restaurant area, and has matured into a funky neighborhood hang-out. Those from other parts of the city and country feel as if they're part of an exclusive club if friends have introduced them to The Bird.
Waiters and waitresses seem to be required to have tattoos and piercings.
It sells irony, openmindedness, satire, exclusivity (you hear about it from friends and neighbors, not advertising). It sells good greasy burgers, sweet-potato fries, fried pickles and cheap beer.
It's bold -- red and black -- but the absence of background color makes the penguin what he is.
"Food" is stretched out. "Drinks" are squeezed in, making the sign pleasantly lopsided and not too polished. That would be the style error at The Penguin -- being too polished.
But oh my, that trapped white space. Does The Bird need a new sign, or do his flaws contribute to the retro feel and make him what he is?
For more images, search Flickr for Penguin and Charlotte. At Facebook, a group called "People who LOVE THE PENGUIN!!" has more than 180 members.
An earlier owner was a World War II veteran who recently died, Jim Ballentine. He was of the neighborhood, and his customers frequently thanked him for his service in the battle of Bastogne, according to his obit in The Charlotte Observer.
May the Penguin party on, long after the current fascination with the Bird fades away.