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I always hoped a boy would ask me to dance during one of those long Bob Seger songs. They were even better than the glacially-paced Stairway To Heaven, because they avoided that speedy “and as we wind on down the road…” bridge where you stood there with your partner feeling every awkward minute of your thirteen years. All my girlfriends loved to dance with Mike Brecka. He made it a point to have at least one dance with each girl at the party and when he danced with you, he was in the moment. Sometimes he asked me twice.