Thanks for the Cold Beer
On August 16, 2000, my wife and I moved into a new home in Crown Point, Indiana - just outside of Chicago. Within an hour of our lugging in the last box, a man with white hair and white sideburns walked down our driveway, carrying with him a ride-on sports car. "I figure you'll want this. Good street for racing, and I see you have a wee one with you”. He was speaking about my daughter, Julia, who at the time was all of 90 days old - and hardly in need of a ride-on sports car.