My Dad in 1985

Mom never talked about Dad. He'd left when I was no more than six years old. She and him, they'd been the uber cool kids in high school. Many people had many theories. A prevailing sentiment, was that he'd run off in disappointment when his son was decidedly the opposite. Just the kind of kid he'd beat the snot out of. Mom and Drake assured me that wasn't true. Well after finding a wind-up time machine, we'd see who was right. Because I'm about sure it was Dad staring down on us when the garden shed door opened. In 1985.