While recounting a story on another bloggers, well...blog, I talked about my dad being a Professional Bull Rider. Which made me think. I'll never be as tough as he is. Its OK for me to admit. The man rode bulls for chrissakes.
Dad has always been tough. As long as I've known him, which has been since birth, he's been out manning me. He hunts. Cleans his own kills. He rode bulls. In Madison Square Garden. He's told off a New York Times reporter. He's been in fights. At his age, he can probably out ride me on a mechanical bull. He seems like a good foot shorter than I am, but still scares me to death. He's fallen off a roof, only to pop a joint back into socket and go right back to work. He almost lost an eye en route to vacation, only to travel on until we drove all the way TO TEXAS. He's drunkenly stared down an alligator.
The only thing that makes him back down.