Normally, I’m not one to talk about my family on this blog. In fact, to my knowledge, I’ve never really gone into my family life on ye olde Landshark. Well, all you need to know is that I love my family to death. But I’m here to tell you about one person in particular that I’m crazy about.

Grandpa Frank.

Now Grandpa Frank recently passed away. Last month, in fact. I grew up with him, and he lived with us pretty much up until the last few months of his life. I had this very unique connection with him… It wasn’t your typical “Obiwan Kenobi/Luke Skywalker” type relationship. He didn’t offer up any sage advice, never taught me how to drive standard or anything like that. He wasn’t really an outwardly emotional guy. He was a longtime truck driver, proud of his Teamsters Union membership. He had an affinity for cars, trucks, and all things automotive. One of his most beloved memories of the last few years was a trip to the Peterbilt factory down south. Because of his rough lifestyle during his youth (drinking, smoking, sleeping around, etc.), he wasn’t one to say “I love you” too easily.

But he showed his love for me in his own way. As a kid, he’d drive me to school, Toys “R” Us, the comic book shop, wherever I needed to go. If one of my toys broke, he’d work double time to fix it. He was good like that. When I got older, he got into the habit of slipping me money, normally a $50 bill, for no particular reason. We had a sort of unspoken understanding with one another, and that was just fine by me.

I won’t go into the emotional details of his last few weeks, but I will tell you that since he passed, I’ve had the most amazing dreams about him. And I’m here to share one of them with you right now.

Earlier this week, I dreamt that I was on the hit Discovery Channel program American Chopper For some reason, I .was on tour with the Teutels and the entire O.C.C. crew at a bike show, admiring their sleek custom motorcycles and shooting the shit. At one point in the dream, I mentioned how I wished my grandfather could’ve been alive to see it all, as he loved that kind of stuff. Paul, Sr. asked what he did for a living, and I responded by telling him he was a truck driver. When I mentioned the company name, Sr. commented, “I used to know a guy who worked for them… Frank. Tough old bastard. Knocked me on my ass about 30 years ago in a bar fight.”

That’s right. It may only be a dream, but Grandpa Frank beat up Paul, Sr. And you know what? I wouldn’t doubt if he could’ve done it in real life.

Miss you much Grandpa. Now and forever, you are the man.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.