I was probably around 10ish. My bike was all tricked out. It had a headlight, blinkers, a brake light, and even a horn. I’d ride that fucker all day every day. Where I lived was out in the country. Our driveway felt like a mile long. One night I rode to the end, at the mailbox. I couldn’t see it but I heard a dog snarling at me. Rode home as fast as I could and told my dad. He grabbed his gun and went up there looking for it… he was out for blood. He was always very protective when it came to me. He had a “fuck with Keith and I’ll kill you” mentality. I loved that about him.
I love and miss you dad.
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