Having a dead father made me different to other kids. I was six when he died, and in a small town even I knew that for the week of his death, our family was all anyone was talking about. The 30-year-old, wild and misunderstood Robert, who drove his powder blue Valiant, drunk, head on into an oncoming vehicle, killing the grandfather of someone who I was to later meet in high school. It was a collision that changed my life forever.