He enjoyed and passed down his love for horses, the rodeo, anything with a motor and speed, and sports like baseball and football.
I remember one time when all of those passions came together in a single event. He had bought tickets to the Monster Truck Rally at the WNC Ag Center. We saw monster trucks, ATV and motorcycle racing, and even a truck show. While the smell of fuel and rubber dominated the air, there was an undertone of horse and bull lingering from the previous weekend’s rodeo.
A small curiosity at the time: a large group of people was gathered around a big screen TV watching the Braves playoff game. I remember thinking, Aren’t we here for the monster trucks?! My favorite truck, Grave Digger, was there—and I could hardly believe my ears when he was declared the winner over Bigfoot.
But the real highlight of the evening was the truck show, where local entrants showed off their rides and the crowd voted for the winner. Each truck was nicer than the last—until the very last entrant: a dark green conversion van with lime green stripes down the side. Everyone laughed, wondering, What’s a van doing in a truck contest? That van ended up being the main topic of conversation on our ride home.
Many years passed after that rally, and our relationship matured with time. There were still things we didn’t quite understand about each other, but it didn’t matter. One day I asked him about his “Love ya, see ya” sign-off. He said, “I say see ya instead of bye because bye is forever.”
We had many early morning discussions—about wrestling, racing, family, and life in general. Elle convinced him to try sushi. Matty made “the best chicken livers I’ve ever had.” We conned him into all sorts of adventures I’m sure he never expected.
Dad even had his own “jump around” moment. After a year and a half on bed rest due to diabetic wounds on his feet, he was finally able to walk again. I got a text with a video of him cheering and wheeling around on his knee scooter.
Not long after, he suffered a heart attack and was in the hospital. We visited him. I teased him about having the nurse shave his beard, raised and lowered his bed, and just generally messed with him like I did when I was a kid. He gave it right back—didn’t back down an inch. We talked about my and Matty’s upcoming wedding, and how determined he was to be there.
On the way out that night, I squeezed his foot and told him, “Love ya, see ya.”
“Love ya, bye…”
