Richard Franklin Andruchuk is my muse, an inspiration and my father.Like the exposed and detailed inner workings of a motorcycle, my dad is and has been many things traveling on his endless prairie highway. Dad is one of Life's Journeymen with countless stories and titles under his belt; teacher, electrician, mechanic, builder, outdoorsman, poet, athlete, musician, geographer and a layman's philosopher.
Yes, you are detecting an overwhelming sense of pride in my voice. And yes, I am completely unapologetic for my love and admiration for this man - he is the original Highway Man - he is my dad.
Although my grandfather groomed my dad at a young age to one day take over the family electrical business, in true "New Canadian" thinking, Grandpa A had always hoped Dad would become a doctor. Depending on how you spin it, one could argue that Dad did eventually become a physician - with the ability to assess, diagnose and fix many things - just not in the Western Medicine kind of way...
Dad learned to drive the company trucks when he was thirteen or fourteen. I love picturing him gassing up the vehicles for the electricians before they started their shift each morning. On the day of his drivers test, there was a snow storm that emptied most of Winnipeg's streets due to severe black ice and snow drifts. Dad showed up anyways, took the test in one of the company trucks, and elegantly skied into his parallel park. Dad reminisces, "I didn't have to finish the test after that; the instructor simply expelled a huge sigh of relief with a big grin on his face and passed me."
In high school Dad went by "Richard". He played for the Saint James Football and Hockey teams. His varsity jackets still hang modestly in my folks basement den, and were staples in the Andruchuk Girls Halloween costume repertoire. I often wonder if dad was wearing one of those jackets when he met my mom in high school, on that fateful day when he pulled over in the family station wagon while mom was waiting for the bus somewhere on Portage Avenue. In my mind dad leans over the passenger seat and shouts out the window "Hey Al, you need a ride?" Yes indeed she did, eldest daughter of six children she took care of her siblings and had to walk everywhere. That one gesture provided her a refuge. It was the founding moment that solidified their partnership traveling down an endless highway together.
He struggled in school, often contrasting his academic and home life to Paul Simon's lyrics "I am a rock, I am Island". Such information evoked my first inclination that my dad is a deep thinker and a non-conformist - an Artist. He plays piano like Jerry Lee Lewis and can harmonize with every song on the radio. He's also a poet and a songwriter responsible for co-writing songs with me about farmers turned World War II Vetrans and abandoned highways in Northern Ontario.
Dad rode a Honda motorcycle until the early 90s and smoked a pipe in the 70s. He's the father of four girls, a grandfather to a girl and a boy and has been a husband to my mom since 1969. He has constructed 6 of our family homes and has owned more vehicles than I can recall. He has eternal luck when it comes to finding a parking spot and has a tendancy to close his eyes when he is reflecting or giving one of his daughters a "life" chat.
He did not end up taking over the family electrical business. Instead dad went to Teacher's College, moved the family to Alberta and worked on the Siksika Nation Reserve as a Vice-Principal for fifteen years. When all the Andruchuk girls moved out, mom and dad moved back to the city where dad teaches shop, mechanics and career and life management courses at a Calgary high school.
Dad still loves vehicles of the Japanese variety for their efficiency and precision. This is a quality that reflects a true mechanic and his philosphy on life. It is also the reason for my imaginary Father's Day gift to my dad this year - the Honda 450. Happy Father's Day Dad, I love you!
