In 1980, my father had the kind of idea that most normal, conventional dads would have considered imprudent if not reckless. But my dad wasn’t normal or conventional. And to this day I’m glad.
I was about to be a teenager and my 11-year-old brother wasn’t far behind. We were at the cusp of being too cool to hang out with our parental units, and we had better things to do that clearly vexed them, like spend all day playing Atari or listening to AC/DC.
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E.R. Bills is a writer from Fort Worth. He does historical, travel and opinion writing for newspapers and magazines around the state. He can be reached at email@example.com.