I know my dad isn’t actually Indiana Jones. He’s not an archaeologist for one thing, although engineering seems close enough in my book. Many kids grow up revering their fathers as Superman but that just isn’t my dad’s style. My favorite moments with him are not displays of super human strength or laser vision to quell his challengers. He has a mind for history and numbers and a propensity for frequent off-trail quests, many of which make use of the rope or assortment of other outdoor necessities he carries in his hiking pack, ever the prepared eagle scout. More than once he’s come to the rescue of fellow hikers in tight spots while out on the trails. He long ago traded in his cape and tights for a stained, felt fedora and a faded leather jacket. To this day the theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark rings in our ears whenever we take a drive into the wilderness for some healthy outdoor adventure. I thank God for not giving me just another Superman.