I grew up on a dirt road in rural New Hampshire, just across the border from Vermont where the drinking age was higher and the beer was more expensive. On 
hot summer nights a lot of underage drinkers would stop to ditch their unfinished beer and their empties on the side of the road before crossing the state line into Vermont. My dad had us pick up the empties, and bring home the full bottles and cans to kill the slugs in the garden. The beer was mostly inexpensive domestic stuff in aluminum cans: Budweiser and Schlitz, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and sometimes maybe Molson's Golden or St. Pauli Girl bottles. When I got to be old enough to drink, I tried a sip here and there, but mostly, thought beer was pretty wretched, and decided to stick to wine. Read more
