Maybe it’s the Zeppelin on the jukebox, or the lawn chairs and folding tables, or the oscillating fans cooling the patrons, or the ping-pong tables lingering in the back room, or the “There are no strangers here, only friends we haven’t met yet” sign hanging behind the bar, or maybe the endless stream of PBRs and Old Styles, but there’s something about this joint that reminds us of Dad.
