Daniel stretched out his legs in the chase lounge on the back porch of the suburban Dallas house. He sipped slowly from the Miller beer bottle in his left hand. The high speed fan blades hummed blowing an artificial wind through the porch that helped counteract the Texas heat.
"Water is better," I said holding my tall glass of the cold liquid.
"I'm celebrating," he replied.
Just turned 21, the five ten muscular young man was having attention lavished upon him that day by family members and me.
Several other people mingled at the house. Some were family. Others were friends.
Daniel's older brother Ron, age 24, had just come from his own apartment with his girlfriend Cheryl. The two sat in plastic chairs next to each other.
Ron bore a resemblance to his father in height, and facial features including eye color.
Daniel bore resemblance to his mom. Blue eyes, an upper lip that angled sharply down to the corners, and yellow blond hair to the base of his ears cut a handsome figure.
"Hey Ron," he said to his brother. "What's happening?"
"I sold the bike."
"How much did you get for it?"
"$1400," he said.
The bike, A Kawasaki Vulcan 750, had been around for a couple of years. Ron had driven it to his job and enjoyed pleasure cruising.
"What made you sell it?"
"I needed the money to fix the truck."
The alternator had gone in the pickup truck. The price of a new one would have seriously dented Ron's finances. He would not have sold the Kawasaki except in emergency.
"Ron and I have a birthday gift for you," said the tall, lean red haired girl. She handed Dan a flat box wrapped in green paper.
"Thanks," he said.
