My dad called his retirement trip his “last great adventure,” but to me, it felt like he was ignoring my struggles. After fifty years fixing motorcycles, he finally sold his shop and blew the money on a shiny Harley instead of helping me with my condo down payment. I’m 42 and drowning in bills, while he’s chasing freedom like he’s still young. I thought family meant supporting each other, but he seemed to choose himself. That broke something between us.
Mom passed away five years ago, and I hoped Dad would settle down, but instead, he slipped back into his wild biker self. When I asked him to help me financially, he reminded me he worked hard to give me a head start. He said this trip was a promise to Mom—to keep chasing his dreams, even now. It felt like he was living in the past while I struggled in the present. I didn’t know how to bridge that gap.
