Whitewall Willpower
May 31, 2022
4 minutes
By Donald Kozlowski
It was a sweltering-hot 1951 summer day in Detroit—the kind of day ice-cold lemonade and sun tea were made for—when my dad, a Detroit police officer, came home early from work with news that made my day.
I was working in the backyard garden with my mom and little sister, Arlene, when my dad, a man of few but pointed words, walked into the yard and cleared his throat with a rumble. We all stopped what we were doing and looked up at him, but he was only looking at me. “I found a car for you,
You’re reading a preview, subscribe to read more.
Start your free 30 days