Tell A Story About Your Self

[GOPAPA]

I was 9 years old when This terrible thing happened to me.. I was in the back seat of my dads car sitting with my Grandpa.. We were headed somewhere on a road with trees and brush along both sides of it,,,,, .My older sister was in the front seat with my dad ,, They decided to play a trick on me and they kept on doing it over and over and I fell for it tooth and nail as they say... .. They would say "LOOK AT THE DEER .!!!.. I would stand right up to the back of te front seat and look out the front window and would say "Wheres the Deer? this must of happened seems like a dozen times and so I threw a fit.. Hollering and Yelling to the top of my lungs I guess ??,,,and that's when my Grandpa tried to make amends for what was happening to me.. Grandpa had one of these leather pouches he carried his change in . .it was the type that if you squeeze it, a opening would appear and you could stick your fingers in there and get coins out. Even to this day I still wish I had of taken Grandpa up on his offering ...

[CG]

Originally Posted by D.B

Another story about Gramps and I. This was around the summer of 1972 when I was 8 yrs old. We were driving his truck on the highway and was pulled over by the police. Gramps gave him his license. The office then said since he was flying would he happen to have his pilot license. So, Gramps pulled them out and handed them to the officer. The officer handed them back and said have a nice day. Gramps looked at me and started laughing. I was even surprised; I had no clue he had a pilot license.

I didnt have the same kind of relationship you had with your grandpa but he was an OK guy. He was always busy working or doing something. When I was a young teen we were visiting and looking at some old pics. There was a pic of him with his bomber style jacket with the big wool collar and he had a big scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into his jacket. Had on what looks to be a tan hat with dark bill some sort of insignia on the hat, I think he just called it an officers hat. Anyway I asked if was in WWII (silly question but I was a kid) he told me he was and he told me he was a pilot ... What??? That peaked my interest for sure. It was a bit of a let down to me at the time when he told me he was an instructor here in the states for the whole war. Ok so not a fighter pilot or bomber pilot which would have been cool in my eyes. I asked if he still had his license to fly. Nope I didnt fly after the war but maybe a couple of times. I dunno maybe 7 kids kept him "grounded". In his later years he was pretty melo my brothers and I would visit him and after grandma passed we checked in a little more often. I would even pop in once in awhile with my buddies. I think he was in late 70s? when he was a mall Santa. Ill find the picture of my oldest son (43 now) sitting on his lap.

[D.B]

Here is another story with Gramp's. My first car was a 1969 Plymouth Satellite with a 440 4 barrel, 4 speed and 4.56 posi. This car was unbelievably fast. My dad and I rebuilt the motor and made it a lot of fun to drive. Well of course dad said if he ever caught me racing it, he would sell the car. One day it started running rough and it was in the driveway. Dad comes out about the time Nonnie and Gramps drive up. Nonnie is my grandmother. Gramps looks under the hood looked at me and said, "You need to go blow the soot out, it's loading up on you." Dad gets mad and says "No, he does not need to go blow the soot out. He knows what I told him. The car will be sold." Gramps looked at me again and said, "That's what I would do." and went into the house. Dad turned the car off and said let's visit and we can look after they leave. A few minutes later Gramps asked me if we could go for a ride since he never got to drive in it. Off we go, we go around the block on to a street and I said, "Hang on, we are going to blow the soot out". I took off, hit 2nd gear, Gramps grabs the dash then I hit 3rd, and Gramps was as white as a sheet. I then got into 4th cruised around the rest of the block. The car did idle smoother, but Gramps would not talk to me. We got back home and the first thing he told my dad was "You need to sell that thing, that boy will get himself killed in it". Later Nonnie told me to never take Gramps out again in that car. Later that summer was when my Gramps passed away while on vacation. I kept that car all through high school.

[Steeveedee]

Self, but about a car, which seems to be a common theme. Right out of high school in 1970, I went to work at the local Chevy dealer. I bought a '64 Malibu SS that was a trade-in. I put a 4-barrel Rochester on it, right off the bat. The next day, I was trying it out, leaving downtown Saugus (anyone who lived there back then knows what a joke that is) southbound and ran it up to 120. Since there was a curve ahead that was posted for 50, I started slowing down. I was down to 105 MPH when a CHP cruiser came around the curve, heading the other way. I made the curve at 105, and continued to slow. It wasn't that far to work, and I could have hidden behind the used car lot if I had kept up my speed. I got pulled over, and the officer asked my how fast I was going, saying, "You were flying low!". First (and only) lie to law enforcement, "Oh, 75 or 80". First ticket; he wrote me up for 65 in a 50.

[GOPAPA]

Originally Posted by Steeveedee

Self, but about a car, which seems to be a common theme. Right out of high school in 1970, I went to work at the local Chevy dealer. I bought a '64 Malibu SS that was a trade-in. I put a 4-barrel Rochester on it, right off the bat. The next day, I was trying it out, leaving downtown Saugus (anyone who lived there back then knows what a joke that is) southbound and ran it up to 120. Since there was a curve ahead that was posted for 50, I started slowing down. I was down to 105 MPH when a CHP cruiser came around the curve, heading the other way. I made the curve at 105, and continued to slow. It wasn't that far to work, and I could have hidden behind the used car lot if I had kept up my speed. I got pulled over, and the officer asked my how fast I was going, saying, "You were flying low!". First (and only) lie to law enforcement, "Oh, 75 or 80". First ticket; he wrote me up for 65 in a 50.

Did it have the 327 Hp in it ? one car you'd like to have back.. Right ?