Unfortunately, Andy didn't remember much about his father. The dust-up in which Cruncher died had happened when Andy was three. Andy knew what Cruncher looked like, and he remembered the strong, rasping grip of his father’s hardened hands and the fierceness of his hugs. There were other memories too; but they were more vague, less pleasant, so he didn’t try very hard to remember those. When it came right down to it, though, he had no real grasp on his father as a person, and all the pictures and recordings Andy’s mother had kept, even the stories she’d told him, didn’t tell him near enough about the person Cruncher had been.