I bet my father got a kick out of taking us periodically to a street on the northeast side of Detroit called Strasburg Street. The story was that a young girl was hit by a car and the driver unknowingly dragged her down this street, while she knocked to get the driver to stop. We would go in the evening, when it got dark. As we got to Strasburg street we would roll down the windows and dad would drive very slowly. All of a sudden there would be knocking on the side of the car and I remember one of those times jumping over the front seat to sit next to my father. It scared the heck out of us!
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The best things in life, the projects we enjoy most are built in the foundation of the past that have built our present. How powerful...
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