Page 3 of Imperfection is Beauty

I giggled, then teased him about his age, “She likes them kissing the dirt. What can I say?”

He narrowed his eyes then and gunned the engine.

I let out a startled squeak, wrapped him tight, and then laughed.

“Serves you right, Pumpkin,” he called out.

Then, needing the last word, because hey, I was a biker’s daughter after all, I looked over my shoulder at Cami and yelled, “You’re too young for him. And he prefers redheads. And no way in heck am I calling you Mommy.”

My dad was roaring with laughter out of the parking lot.

I truly lived for the moments when I heard my dad let out with laughter, the kind of laughter that causes everyone to join in, even if they don’t think it’s that funny.

Just like he was still doing as we pulled onto the main highway and headed to the clubhouse.

Yes… He was still laughing as we stopped at a red light.

Now, I was laughing at all the women checking my dad out. And then they looked at the hair underneath my helmet, and either sneered at me or jerked their heads away so fast from him so they didn’t get caught ogling him.

Now, let me tell you something about my dad.

My dad… he is handsome.

Let me set the stage for you.

Six foot three. Dirty blonde hair that was shorter on the sides and longer on top.

He had a goatee that he had always had, and it matched his hair.

He had full lips that I got from him.

But the best thing about my dad was his eyes.

Or it was his tattoos, as some women said.

But for me, it was his eyes.

He had the kind of eyes that you could see deep into his soul. The kind of eyes that never strayed. The kind of eyes that showed you he always had your back.

And he would never waiver.

And thankfully, he passed them down to me.

***

Yes, the guys threw me a congratulations party for finishing high school.

And yes, again, they threw me a graduation party.

But why they went with thatI neededtwo parties when they used any excuse to party, I’ll never know.

We had just finished dinner.

It was on a Sunday, the day after my graduation party, when my dad took a sip of his beer and then said, “Okay, go get ‘em.”

I didn’t have to ask what he was referring to.

We agreed to open my college acceptance letters the day after I graduated.

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