"...The owner's name was Merv. He was about sixty and a very congenial bar owner. He always knew what was going on in town and was quick to share it. Somehow, he could tell if anyone was trying to run something past him with regard to age and would graciously let them down easy with, "Don't make me call your mom." His bar back was a big old guy named Junior. He was about forty-five years old and a little slow, and everybody liked him. He rode his bicycle to work, rain or shine, and his job was to keep the bar stocked with ice and beer."