When I was about in the third or fourth grade our family and the neighbors across the street piled into their station wagon and drove what seemed like an hour or two to a friend of the families' that had a summer cottage on a small lake.

Down near the lake there was an artesian well. Fresh pure water just constantly bubbled up. My Dad told me that it was the Fountain of Youth and told me the abridged story of Juan Ponce De Leon.

Wanting to live forever, and believing every thing my father said, I proceeded to drink almost non-stop from the fountain all day.

I didn't notice, but the neighbor got visibly annoyed when I had to stop every 15 minutes to relieve myself on the long drive back home.