My earliest memories of my father is of him putting me on the back of his motorcycle and taking me for rides. I was probably 4 or 5. Yes, people really do that. Though to be honest, I can't imagine why my Mother let him put me on there. But he did, and I loved it.
Bikes get in your blood. It's the closest thing I have to a heritage. And when it comes right down to it, bikes are the only thing I have in common with my Father. You see, my Dad really only loves two things: fishing and riding. To tell you the truth, the fishing is probably his one true love.
Like motorcycles, he tried to instill that love of fishing in me as well. It didn't take. He tried. But I hate Louisiana. I hate the humidity. And though I love boats I cannot stand sitting quietly on the water in the Louisiana heat for hours waiting for something to volunteer to be eaten. (Though I will damn sure eat it when it does.)
When I was still too young to have clear memories, he made one last attempt to make his son a fisherman. He told me if I caught the biggest fish, he'd give me 5 whole dollars. (Look, it was the 80's and I was six.) It wasn't much of a bet, as I'd never actually caught anything. Maybe it was a miracle, or maybe my father pulled a fast one on me, but on that day I caught a huge redfish. In my mind's eye it was the size of a barracuda, though it was probably just a decent sized redfish. When we got home I declared that I caught my fish, I got my five dollars and I was officially retired from fishing.
I'm certain that disappointed him. It's natural for a man to want to connect with his son on the things he loves. I think it was very evident from a young age that he wouldn't be able to have that with me.
Except there's motorcycles.
Yesterday, for Father's Day I took my Dad to lunch. We don't go to restaurants much. He likes take out. But for whatever reason he went along with it. And we got on our bikes and hit the road.
It may seem like nothing to you. Just two guys on bikes; you see it all the time. But for me... it's me and my Dad spending the closest we have to quality time. I don't like football or drinking or fishing. But I love riding.
He lead out and stayed slow. My bike has been having constant problems and I think he wanted to be sure I could keep up. And of course I can't keep up with him. He's the real deal. But it's nice to pretend. On the way back home, I decided to take a different route and left him behind. I got about a mile out when I remembered the whole point was to spend time with my Dad and I should have just followed behind him. It was about 3 miles later when I looked in my rear view mirror to see him smiling right behind me.
And when I forgot to shift gears and killed the bike, he was coaching me. Watching over me. We haven't had a whole lot of moments like that. But every once in a while I get to feel like I'm six years old, catching a redfish and I just won five dollars.
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