KB Loves Poppa Ken

In honor of Father’s Day, I’ve decided to do a KB Loves This about my father. Don’t worry, I’m not about to lapse into sickeningly sweet sentimental stories (although that’s the kind of crap my dad eats up). Instead, I’m going to tell you some of the most vivid memories I have of him: most of which involve a bad decision followed by an injury.

Note: this is not meant to suggest that my father was a bad father. If I thought that I would have done a “KB Loves Hating on LeBron” blog today instead. On the contrary, he was a good dad growing up and he’s still doing a pretty good job of parenting (he paid me to say that)

Wagon Issues

When I was little, I had a Red Flyer wagon. Remembering that when he was little you could steer the wagon while sitting in it, my father packed me into the wagon, hopped in behind, and pushed us off down a hill. It was only then that he realized wagon designs had changed since his day. Without the ability to steer, he soon realized that, due to the high sides of the wagon, he also couldn’t stop us with his feet. Luckily for us, a bump stopped us… and sent our bodies flying.

Bike Issues #1

Hard to believe but when I was little I was an even bigger baby than I am now. My father and I went on a bike ride but I was too tired to make it home. Instead of allowing me to stop and pout, my ever helpful father reached down and grabbed the center of my handlebars and began to tow me home at a fairly brisk pace. Enter a patch of gravel. As can be imagined, the grip he had on my handlebars was already tenuous at best and the gravel caused him to lose completely control... And caused me to get some pretty awesome gravel cuts.

Wheelchair Issues

While visiting Mount Vernon (George Washington’s home) as kid, my family rented a wheelchair to help my grandma get around. When my grandma decided not to use the wheelchair for a bit, my father decided it would be fun to push me in it. As the name suggests, Mount Vernon is rather hilly. As the previous stories suggest, my father once again lost control of the wheelchair. While neither of us was injured, a good number of tourists still remember that trip as the time they had to jump out of the way of a 5-year-old with a bowl cut in a wheelchair being chased by a balding man with a mustache.

 Hey, I never claimed we were photogenic. Plus, we were in a cave so... f off

Bike Issues #2

My father and I used to have one weekend every summer where we would go camping or rock climbing or caving or bike riding or some other outdoor excursion. One summer, we got it in our head that we would ride the 110 mile Mickelson Trail in two days on a tandem bike. First of all, if you ever think it is a good idea to ride that many miles on a bike, think again. My butt has never been that sore. Anyway, midafternoon on the second day of our ride, we made it to the end of the trail in Edgemont, SD. Due to the aforementioned soreness of my ass, I was standing on the back of the tandem in eager anticipation of the moment I could get off that mother f-ing bike. My father, in a display of joy apparently brought on by his delirium, decided that would be the perfect moment to slam on the brakes and yell “We’re done!” You know what else was done? My hips. And my calves. And my father’s belief in my innocence.

What had happened was at the apprupt stop, my precariously perched body flung forward nailing my hips against the handle bars while my feet slid off pedals which continued to go around until they made contact with the back of my calves reducing them to something which vaguely resembled pulled pork. In anger and pain, I turned to my father and yelled “What the F@CK did you do that for?”

Like I said earlier though, these stories aren’t meant to make my dad seem like a bad dad. In fact, he’s pretty awesome. I would insert a number of heartwarming stories about us bonding but, let’s face it, that’s not the kind of stuff you want to hear.

Does your dad do this? (Silence) That's what I thought.

Happy Father’s Day to everyone (especially Poppa Ken)