I never liked my dad because he fixed motorcycles instead of having an important job like being a doctor or lawyer, like my friends’ parents.
I used to be embarrassed by my father, Frank — a leather-clad motorcycle mechanic, not a doctor or lawyer like my friends’ dads. At my college graduation, he wore jeans and a button-up that revealed faded tattoos. When he went to hug me, I shook his hand instead. The look in his eyes still haunts…