My Dad.....He Rode a Motorcycle and He Would LOVE this Weather!

My dad died in September, 1998. It was a motorcycle accident. It was his fault. Dumb, dumb Dad. Why couldn't you have paid more attention? I can say though that he died doing what he absolutely loved. If it has to be our time to go, may we all be as lucky.

I didn't have the closest relationship with my Dad, but boy did I worship him when I was a youngin'! I only got to see him every other weekend and I could never wait, but as I got older things changed. A lot.

The first time my "Daddy's Little Girl World" came crashing down around me, I was 11 or 12. He gave me a dirtbike for Christmas. Since I didn't see him but twice a month, I didn't get to ride it often, but I could never wait to do it! I was ridin' a bike just like my Deddy! Well, after about two months, we were at my Stepmom's sisters house and one of the kids there was riding a dirtbike just like mine. As it turns out, it was mine! My Dad had sold it to them. I was devastated. I ran into the house and locked myself in the bathroom and just cried. I wanted my Dad to chase after me and say he was sorry. Tell me why he did it. Tell me something. He didn't. After a few minutes, I wiped my snot nose and tear soaked face on the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, lifted my head up high and went back outside. Nothing was ever said about my dirt bike. I got over it.

I realized that day that my Dad wasn't the hero I thought he was. I didn't just see him as the Dad I went to work with at the Harley shop, or the Dad that taught me all kinds of stuff about motorcycles, or the Dad that took me to all kinds of awesome places on the back of his motorcycle. Nope. As the years changed so did my love for my Dad. A sad reality that was shaped over many years and many disappointments.

There was all the times that I'd go see my Dad on the weekend and he would lay up in bed with his Barbie Doll like girlfriend all day while I sat in front of a t.v. (This was the first and last time in my life that I have ever felt the pangs of jealously.....I pissed in her lemonade and watched her drink it only to spit it out....I smoked her cigarettes that she left to burn out in different ashtrays around the house, and I made a little noose and hung a Barbie Doll from her rear view mirror in her car....I was 13).

When I was 16 I moved in with my Dad. When I was 17, I got kicked out. I went home one night and my Dad was all coked up (up until that point, I had NO idea my Dad did drugs) and yellin' at me. He told me to get all my shit out of his house, I couldn't live with him anymore. Then he shot at my boyfriend. He missed.

OH! Then there's the BEST one! My Dad had me follow him to a local airport, drivin' 125 mph on a busy road in his Corvette that had drugs in the back and it was gonna be repossessed. Yeah. I didn't know that at the time. I thought he was just letting me drive it because I love to drive and he knew it. Nope. Drugs were goin' who knows where and he was hiding the car in a hanger at the airport so he could keep it for a little bit longer. He didn't wanna get caught drivin' it.

I could go on and on, but I won't. I'd be here for DAYS. There's nothing you can do about how others once treated you....unless they're alive and you can tell them to take a walk, but since my Dad's not alive, I'll just not think about it anymore.

About three months before my Dad died, he decided he wanted to be a part of my family's life. He would call me in the morning and I'd meet him at the Harley shop and we'd have lunch together. I was in lala land! I loved seeing my Dad again. He was funny, and smily and awesome! Just like he was before the day I saw my step cousin on MY dirt bike. I was learning to love my Dad like a Daddy's girl should. I missed it. I missed him. It was heaven.

Then he was gone in a flash. I am SO greatful for those three months.

Every year around this time, I think of my Dad often. The air is perfect. It's nice and brisk and you can breathe it in and actually feel it. It lets you know you're alive. On the days that I think of my Dad, I don't think "Oh I miss my Dad. I wish he were still here". I think, "My Dad should be here riding his bike, soaking up this sun and breathing in this cool air". He would've love this weather.

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