This is my Dad.

My wild bushman dad.

The Blackbearded Pirate of Dadsville.

For years, we tried to convince my Dad that wearing a helmet while he rode his motorbike hellbent all over the farm chasing cattle was kinda, umm, a NECESSITY. It only took him one broken collarbone, numerous stitches, two severe concussions and a broken nose over the span of twenty years for him to start wearing one.
It was the broken nose that did it, I think.
I suspect that he’s an appearance man underneath it all.

Anyways, me and my four siblings never did specify what sort of helmet he should wear.
Perhaps we should have.

This is my beautiful daddy, with his great big heart and furry face, sporting his 1970s helmet he found at the back of the shed somewhere, probably under a thick coating of dust and a petrified possum.

Coz us bushies, that’s how we swing it.

If you’d like to vote on this piccie to go in JPG Mag’s issue of Family ~ click here.

Big furry dad love, from me to you,