Happy 37th anniversary in Heaven, Dad. Wow, it's already been 37 years ago today since my Dad died. Thirty-seven years! Unreal. Yesterday, I had just told my Survey partner, Rodney, that I've always felt cheated that I didn't have the chance to get to know my Dad when we both were older, when I wasn't so much The Rebel. A time when together we could just sit around as friends and talk about our lives. Carl J. Fisher was able to teach his son many things in those short twenty-one years together. But for today, I will remember my Dad with the telling of a story about how my Dad's path crossed with a young Ted Nugent.
Dad had just returned home from another of a trucker's many road trips and one of the first things he asked me was, "Did you ever hear of the band called The Amboy Dukes?" No, I hadn't heard of them. He then said that if I ever brought one of their records home that he would "throw it out the window!" Dad didn't tell me the entire story and to this day I wonder what had happened, but he had told me enough. He had seen them at a restaurant. Now here's what I think happened. There was my Dad. He was feeling hungry and it was late in the afternoon, nearly dark. Another trucker, lonely on the road and missing his family back home. Just wanting to find the closest thing to a home-cooked meal before he settled down in the back of his truck's cab to go to sleep alone again. No one to cuddle with and feel their warmth. Dad finds a comfortable booth and is just served his meal when in through the door they come. The Amboy Dukes on the road. On a concert road tour across America with their leader, Ted Nugent, in rare form. In they come hootin' and hollerin' and raising Rock Band - life on the road - Hell. Their party is just starting. They probably had groupies in tow and were just being overall inconsiderate to everyone else in the establishment. Being young assholes really. And Ted Nugent would have been the ring-leader. And I think that this was the way it went down. And that Dad quietly ate his meal and put up with the disruption and formed his opinion and moved on.
Or could this story have gone in another direction? That my Dad had had enough. That he went over and told the band to keep it down. And mouthy Ted got in my Dad's face and my Dad had to kick his ass. That would be the better story. Or could it have happened like this? That Ted started picking on and annoying my Dad. When I told my buddy Chiz about that scenario, he said "No", that my Dad was a powerful looking man with his bald head and stocky build and massive forearms and that he would have kicked Ted's ass. I agreed with him.
And so, that's a great way to remember my Dad today. What a great story. That Dad saw these young hell raising asshole punks bothering everyone in the restaurant's private space. Maybe it's more than that. Maybe it elevated to much more, but I'll never know for sure. But do you know what? My Dad was right. Because Ted Nugent is nothing more that a loud mouthed N.R.A. radical pain in the ass. Living in the wild and loving the kill. What a dick head. I believe I learned that incite from my Dad. The ability to see people for the first time and to easily be able to tell if they are genuine decent and cool people or if they are just another loud mouthed blow hard asshole. And this story is how I'm going to remember my Dad for the rest of the day. What a great story!
