When Dad meets Mom

“When did you meet my mom, dad?”

I asked the question out of pure curiosity—and sheer boredom caused by the noisy yet meaningless soup opera. It seemed that my father only noticed the first part of my emotion. “Well,” obviously he was happy that I dragged him out of the exhausting watch-the-show-with-your-wife process, “we met at high school, an afternoon, when your mom was learning to ride an old bike and successfully ran into me—”