My Dad. The smartest, and possibly loudest man I know. I’ve no doubt he could easily talk over a fire engine. Today is his birthday.

No matter how old he gets, or I get, I’ll always see him as a superhero.

Bless her heart.

My dad taught me to ride a bicycle down this sidewalk.

There’s a lot more shade.

My Dad, Montreal, September 1982 on a motorcycle trip. Only twenty-three here, but already married four years, and already a father. Makes me wonder sometimes what the hell I’m doing. Don’t think there was ever a time he wasn’t invincible. Nor will there be, and thats why hes my Dad.

Happy Fathers Day Dad.

Love,
Kyle.

My first car. My close friend Michelle’s Grandmother’s car. A brand new, used 1992 Ford Torus with 3 hubcaps, no AC, and a half broken tape deck. But she runs.

This is my Mom and Dad’s home. I forgot a window next to the door. My room was the window on the right.