Memories of father

What can I say about my Father, my Father was kind man, a loyal man, a terrific speaker, and a devoted husband who got along with everyone ( I don’t care what anybody says, he was not a racist, he just hated black people). Till this day I still reflect on the moment my Father took me on a fishing trip. I still remember his face when I first hooked something. He was so excited for me, he looked me in the eyes and slowly pulled the hook from his bloody jaw. My Father never complained much, he would however complain about the heat, and the young kids who kept breaking into our home and hanging up pictures of other people. My father had a knack for bicycle riding, he loved to take long rides along the shore, and sometimes even would place the bike on the top of the car to go up to the mountains( that’s how we lost Grandma). He would love to watch thunder storms, and loved to take long walks in sun showers with my Mother. He often would strike up the conversation on how he met Mother. He would say how he was working on his bike when this beautiful women rode in on her bike and crashed into him, she flew over the handlebars. He pulled out the bike chain from his bloody Jaw, She looked into his eyes, he looked into hers, she got a mirror and looked into her eyes, then he got a mirror and looked into her eyes looking into her eyes, and he knew she was the one. She said he was the perfect gentleman, he would hold her hand and pay for diners, sing to her at night, and ask how much she weighed on the weekends. My Father served in Vietnam, he was a drill instructor who wore black plaid striped shirts, he said it was a overall good experience, except for the time he was captured by Vietnamese Soilders who dressed as Vietnamese Tourist. He woke up ten days later in a field with a cow, he said he was physically unharmed, but could now read Heighrogliphics. Once in a while my Father would take mother out on long diners, and sometimes take her on Hot air balloon rides ( Thats how we lost Grandpa). He was so proud of me when I got my first car, as I smiled at him I stepped on the gas petal and ran over a Nun (We spent the Night in Jail). My Father was a good man, who loved all of his children dearly(Except Ralph, he had too many freckles). I will always remeber his last worlds, " This Wool is Itchy"( He wasnt wearing wool). I now cherish my memories with Father, I have however repressed many of the Memories, for once in a while he would become drunk and say horrible things like, "Jack Daniels is your Father", or, " Kleenex". I love you Dad...