Poldi was your father's best friend before you were even born. He was much older than you, though you still got butterflies whenever he was near.

One day your dad was busy at work and asked Poldi to pick you up from art school.

"Hey, kid. How are you?" he smiled at you as you entered the car, his hands on the steering wheel of the chevy impala 1969.

His glasses sat a bit low on his nose as usual, giving him a cozy vibe.