There were a lot of good things that happened to us as kids. Some were direct, like a new baseball glove or bicycle for a birthday present. Some were indirect, like the time the road we lived on was paved by the city.

For six months, we breathed in the smell of thick tar as we dodged cars on roller skates, soap box racers, skateboards and bicycles. We would glide on the smooth, black surface, which was made slippery as it shed water from summer’s showers.