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 ?

[Steeveedee]

It had a 283 and a Powerglide, and yes, that's one I'd love to have back!

[GOPAPA]

Originally Posted by Steeveedee

It had a 283 and a Powerglide, and yes, that's one I'd love to have back!

Makes me think of the 57 Chevy I had with a 283 4 barrel carb.. I had it up to a bouncing speedpmeter between 100 and 120 ,,never knew exactly how fast I was going down a long grade on the highway .. 18 yearsold,,, I can say I honestly never did that again ,call me chicken ,,but not doing it..

[70STOVEBOLT]

Back in '85 or '86 I was taking a buddy's gf home one Saturday night in my '67 Biscayne that had a 250/3OTT with L60-15 Firestones on the back. We pulled into her neighborhood and I pulled it down into first, floored it and popped the clutch, did a little burnie. As we pulled into her driveway, the cherries came on behind us. The cop gave us the usual speech, then searched the car. There was a half-full pint of cherry vodka under the right side of the front seat. He took off the lid, poured it out, said "drive home safely" and left. Turns out it was the town marshal from a little town 13 miles north of us, and he was off duty so he didn't want to mess with us. We laughed our arses off after he left. Imagine that happening today...

[HO455]

One nice Friday summer evening the summer after graduation my friend Doug invited me to head over to Coeur d’Alene for an evening of cruising town in our friend Rick's 76 Formula Firebird. It was a beautiful dark blue W50 car with a 455 and a 4 speed. Rick owed Doug for something and using the Formula for the evening was the payback. We drove the 45 miles to Coeur d’Alene, stopped and got a case of Michelob (just in case). It was early, about 7:30-08:00 PM, when we arrived on the main drag. On our second trip down the main drag a police car pulled out and started following us. After about 6 blocks the lights lit up and we pulled over.

It started with the usual “Driver’s license and registration please”. Doug, after looking in his wallet, admitted he didn’t have his license and wasn’t sure where it was. While I searched the glove box for a registration. Doug explained he didn’t own the car and that it belonged to a friend who had us drop him off at the airport in Spokane and we were on our way back from there. The officer asked about the case of beer in the back seat and Doug explained it was in the car when we left for the airport with the owner. By this time, I had found a registration, and it was handed to the officer.

After what seemed like 30 minutes the officer came back and asked if we knew why the plates on the car were registered to a 1966 Ford pickup. Of course, we knew nothing about this and told the officer so. Reiterating that we were just returning to Sandpoint from the Spokane airport and had swung through Coeur d’Alene for a couple passes down the main drag on the way home. The officer asked if I had a driver’s license, which I did. He took it and said to continue waiting while he went back to his car (for what seemed like another 30 minutes). By now Doug and I are now discussing the possibility that the car was stolen (Rick was a little bit shady) and whether we might spend the night in jail.

Eventually the officer came back and asked some questions about where we lived and worked. Then officer explained since both the Ford and the Formula were registered to the same person that the owner must have “accidently” mixed up the plates and we needed to inform him of that so he could rectify the mix up as soon as possible.

He then said since I had a license I was going to have to drive the car back to Sandpoint. There were to be no side trips or stops on the way. He said he would be relaying the cars description out to the state patrol and county sheriffs to be on the lookout for us. If he learned of any stops or side trips between there and Sandpoint we could expect to be arrested.

All in all, it was a still nice evening when we headed back to Sandpoint as the sun was going down. We didn’t get arrested; we ended up with a good story to tell and I got to drive a 455 Firebird for the first time!

[Steeveedee]

Not about me, but one of my friends. He and two other guys were out drinking (underage), as happens with some guys when they get a little alky in 'em, they just have to get in a fight. He's getting between them when an LA County Sheriff car pulls up. They didn't get arrested, and the Deputy told my friend he didn't look too drunk, and to take these two home, walking between them, because he wasn't driving anywhere in that condition. Different times, I guess. It was only about a mile home, so no big deal for some teens.

[D.B]

Here is my beer story. My best friend and I worked at the same place. So, on Friday after work around 9pm we ran by a beer store that we knew would sell us beer. I was 16 and he was 17, yes minors, underage. We were in his car which was a hopped up 70 Plymouth Duster with a built small block and manual trans. We were planning to go meet some other friends and stay out all night. We ended up getting three cases of beer and drove over to an 8 Days Inn to get a trunk load of ice. After that we went to the local hang out which was a huge parking lot. We thought we would go see if any of our other friends were going to hang out us. When we got into the parking lot we talked to a few people and decided to leave. My friend decided to do a huge burn out then a donut. Then behind a fast-food joint comes the police with his lights on. He stopped us and had us get out of the car. Asked a lot of questions then he noticed in the floorboard of the back seat was a tire thumper bat. More questions, then I think he decided we were harmless but told my friend to put the bat in the trunk. It didn't look right to have that in the car since it could be used as a weapon. You guested it. My friend tried to sneak it in the trunk, but the officer flipped the deck lid with his flashlight and seen all of the beer. He told us both to start pouring or go to the station for minor in possession. That was a very embarrassing night pouring out all of that beer in front of a lot friends. And I will never forget it.

[dmjlambert]

There are lots of good stories here. My story is my family traveled by car between San Antonio and Minnesota for a yearly family reunion. This was before the Interstate road system was finished so we didn't have I-35 to take the whole way. US and state highways were the thing, and the Turner Turnpike. I remember being impressed that along the turnpike the only stops were gas station/restaurant complexes in the median. I think they were Howard Johnson's with Esso gas, but can't be sure about the memory of this kid. I do remember the big signs at the pump with a huge tiger and "put a tiger in your tank" slogan. Wow!

We used to stop several times overnight and camp in a tent in state parks or stay with friends. If camping, I remember my Mom cooking for us on a Coleman stove, I still remember the bacon and eggs in the morning. It wasn't until I was older we stayed in motels.

Back in those days in the 60's there was a very prominent black stripe in the middle of the lane on every road in the country that many people here on the forum are not old enough to remember. That was from the oil dripping from every car and truck before PCV was a thing. All the way into the 70's and 80's motorcycle drivers used to drive "in their third" of the lanes as a general rule, to stay as much as possible off that oil stripe.

One trip we stopped to stay with family friends in Sherman TX. This would have been when I was 6 or 7 years old. We went for a drive between Sherman and Lake Texoma in our friend's 66(ish) Mustang convertible and I remember being fascinated by the back window being soft plastic and having a zipper. Along the trip we encountered a stretch of road where thousands of tarantulas were crossing. It was an unbelievable sight. Our friend got out and scooped up one of the tarantulas into a rag and when we got back to the house it went into a jar with holes punched in the jar lid.

Kids like me were easily fascinated...

[Steeveedee]

I remember that oil stripe and never riding near the center of the lane. It's easy enough to fall on a two-wheeler to start with. Case in point-
I used to ride my motorcycle all over the area where I lived, especially mountains and canyons, where the only crazy one was me, usually. I had just passed some people in a Jeep, and failed to negotiate a curve about a quarter mile later. There was sand spilled in the road, and I slid right off the road, down an embankment. There was a stream running at the bottom, but I didn't get that far, because I bailed when the motorcycle went over the edge. So there I was, sliding downhill on my face, and wondering where my motorcycle was- I didn't want to get run over by my own equipment. I got lucky and it augured in the left handle bar, stuck in the dirt. I picked it up, started it and began angling up the embankment. The people in the Jeep stopped and helped me the rest of the way up. Harleys are heavy. The left handlebar was bent, but the clutch worked, so I rode it home. Next day I noticed that the license plate was missing and went back to the scene, but couldn't find it. I put a foot up by the fork and pulled the left handlebar back to about where it should be. I sold it about 6 months later before I joined the Navy.

[weq92f]

.

Circa 1986

A Junior in High School and infatuated with a fellow classmate named Christy, I was leaving the Senior Graduation Party out in the woods at some random house. The festivities were still in full swing but Christy had left with some dude, it was late and I was just ready to leave. On the way home I decided to drive by Christy's house because, well, I was being stupid as often times happens to 17 year old boys/girls, especially after a big party out in the sticks!

While I had been near her house once before, I'd not driven past it...only down an adjoining street and so this time I turned boldly onto her street when I got there out of a total lack of caution and discreetness. To my surprise, I found the street deadened abruptly and immediately at her house! No worries, I'll just do a three point U turn here and be on my way........

It was very dark, my windows were tinted black, the street had no curbs and no lights. I backed both rear tires off the pavement and down about 8-10 inches to the dirt, which was wet from the rain that night. So now my headlights are aiming right into the face of the front of Christy's house and I can't remove it out of this situation easily. I start gradually backing further and further into the off-road area and gunning it to try and overcome the lip up to the pavement. Eventually I hit something behind me and hear a clunk and a very loud hiss. As I'm processing that, I smell the unmistakable odor of natural gas. 2 seconds later I'm running down the road with the keys in my hand thanking my balls @ss I was still alive!

Maybe an hour later, after I'd alerted a guy a few houses down that I needed the gas company and a tow truck, I was sitting in the back seat of a police car just about ready to die emotionally when the cop got into the drivers seat and shut the door. He asked me to explain how all this happened. I was always taught to be honest and trust the cops so I told him everything: I'm a junior, was at the senior grad party, infatuated and in love with this girl Christy, she left party with some dude, I left soon after and decided to see if she made it home safe and so drove by the house...

When I finished explaining why my truck was in the ditch out there within view through the front windshield of his patrol car, he said that he was Christy's father and this was his house. There was no anger in his voice, his tone was completely neutral and I believe he was feeling compassion...or maybe pity. In either case, within an hour of that conversation, I was back home, my truck was towed and deposited there too. Despite clearly violating several laws, I was not charged. My Mother did not approve at all of course. But she obliged when the officer requested she come out to his house and pickup her Son.

A few years later, I encountered this officer again, a sheriff deputy actually, when he pulled me over on a dark night for headlight out. Whether he recognized me and my information is unknown but he was very kind, polite and issued me a warning.

This story has been shared with very few. Putting it out here like this feels...wrong but whatever! My Senior year and later reunion had reference aplenty of that night thrown around in jest mostly so I'm OK with it.

-Kevin

[D.B]

Originally Posted by weq92f

.

Circa 1986

A Junior in High School and infatuated with a fellow classmate named Christy, I was leaving the Senior Graduation Party out in the woods at some random house. The festivities were still in full swing but Christy had left with some dude, it was late and I was just ready to leave. On the way home I decided to drive by Christy's house because, well, I was being stupid as often times happens to 17 year old boys/girls, especially after a big party out in the sticks!

While I had been near her house once before, I'd not driven past it...only down an adjoining street and so this time I turned boldly onto her street when I got there out of a total lack of caution and discreetness. To my surprise, I found the street deadened abruptly and immediately at her house! No worries, I'll just do a three point U turn here and be on my way........

It was very dark, my windows were tinted black, the street had no curbs and no lights. I backed both rear tires off the pavement and down about 8-10 inches to the dirt, which was wet from the rain that night. So now my headlights are aiming right into the face of the front of Christy's house and I can't remove it out of this situation easily. I start gradually backing further and further into the off-road area and gunning it to try and overcome the lip up to the pavement. Eventually I hit something behind me and hear a clunk and a very loud hiss. As I'm processing that, I smell the unmistakable odor of natural gas. 2 seconds later I'm running down the road with the keys in my hand thanking my balls @ss I was still alive!

Maybe an hour later, after I'd alerted a guy a few houses down that I needed the gas company and a tow truck, I was sitting in the back seat of a police car just about ready to die emotionally when the cop got into the drivers seat and shut the door. He asked me to explain how all this happened. I was always taught to be honest and trust the cops so I told him everything: I'm a junior, was at the senior grad party, infatuated and in love with this girl Christy, she left party with some dude, I left soon after and decided to see if she made it home safe and so drove by the house...

When I finished explaining why my truck was in the ditch out there within view through the front windshield of his patrol car, he said that he was Christy's father and this was his house. There was no anger in his voice, his tone was completely neutral and I believe he was feeling compassion...or maybe pity. In either case, within an hour of that conversation, I was back home, my truck was towed and deposited there too. Despite clearly violating several laws, I was not charged. My Mother did not approve at all of course. But she obliged when the officer requested she come out to his house and pickup her Son.

A few years later, I encountered this officer again, a sheriff deputy actually, when he pulled me over on a dark night for headlight out. Whether he recognized me and my information is unknown but he was very kind, polite and issued me a warning.

This story has been shared with very few. Putting it out here like this feels...wrong but whatever! My Senior year and later reunion had reference aplenty of that night thrown around in jest mostly so I'm OK with it.

-Kevin

So, what ever happened to Christy??

[weq92f]

Originally Posted by D.B

So, what ever happened to Christy??

.

Don't know really. The night of our 10 year reunion, I remember her there alone and as we sat at the table towards the end of the evening over drinks and casual conversation, she asked aloud if I had "run into any gas meters lately" and it was a real hoot!

-Kevin

[GOPAPA]

Great reading Stories guys..

This memory is about me and my dealing with another kid my age and then after growing up some with the same kid .It all started when I was 12 years old and the end of my story I was around 18 years old

This Kid I knew back then sold me a bycycle and he said it was in fine shape ,, but it wasnt .. the bearings in the real wheel were shot and the handle bars turned on me when riding ,, seat was that way also.. I paid $10 for it..

So at 18 I bought this 1953 Chevy 2 door car and the front king pins were real bad ,,so bad I would wear out both front tires out in a couple weeks from just driving on the asphalt highways around where I lived .. One tire would make a squeeling noise on the slick tarred places on the highway . Tires would wear down to the threads ................... ( I later found out the previous owner had never greased the car or changed oil in it )

So, the same kid that sold me the bad bycycle seen I had a for sale in my rear window and remembering him giving me a bad deal on he bycycle ,,, Yep! I got him back ...sold the car for $150 just what I bought it for .. He did hit me up on the tires wearing out and I just said "Ill be darn !