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Old 03-10-2013, 12:00 PM
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Brian Martin,Freelance adviser
 
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Location: San francisco bay area
Age: 55
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Bad Rat View Post
Growing up in the 50's,, I think I was around 13 or so,, my dad owned a Chev/Oldsmobile dealership,, he had a old 46 chev sedan ( at that time it wasn't really old , 8 y/o)that he had brought home to keep for himself,, we lived on a dead end road, that had a huge field at the end of it,,he hardly ever drove the car,, so after school one day ,my buddy and I decided to take it for a spin, back in those days everything was stick shift, I got the thing started and down the road we went, got to the end, and the brakes weren't working too good ( of course I was going too fast ,and I went through the fence, trying to turn around ,, I got stuck in mud,, down to the axles,, I knew I was in deep do-do , so we had to get it out someway, so we went to my uncles farm. and took my uncles farm tractor and hooked a chain up to the front bumper,, first yank , off came the bumper,, (so then we hooked up to something under the car, I think it was the A-Arm ( its been a few years) anyway we finally got the car out of the field, less the bumper. and a few dents and gouges,,
Dragged it back home and washed and cleaned it up as good as we could, we had to park it back in the same spot, or he would notice it being moved, but we had to put it facing the opposite direction because, the thing wouldn't go in reverse.. that was better anyway cause that way the missing front bumper didn't show,
it took about a week for him to notice how it was parked , and when he did ,, I could hear him hollering for a mile,
needless to say, my a z z was burning for a LONG time,, I hated that car after that,, and never cared for the 46 chevs either
LOLOL, boy does that bring back memories of being a dumb ars. My dad gave me the job to take his truck (55-F100) and go to the dump. I filled up the back, which included a couple of barrels full of garbage. I got the bright idea to dump it down near the bay in an area we called "the salt flats" (near the hundreds of acres of salt ponds where Leslie salt got the salt that is on your dinner table) and keep the five bucks or what ever he gave me to dump it a the dump. So I took the truck and went off towards the dump but ended up at "salt flats" in some trees and dumped my load (what a jerk!) and I hear the helicopter! A helicopter from some government agency (flood control I think) use to fly over the creek near my home once in a while. It had been completely rebuilt a few years earlier so I guess they kept an eye on it. Anyway, I drive out of the trees with the helicopter following me! I was freaked crapping my pants as I drove around away from my house as far from the creek as I dare go waiting for this friggin helicopter to stop it's following me. It finally does and I went home to find out I had left one of the barrels at the salt flats! So I can't take the truck anymore because I wasn't allowed to just drive it when ever I wanted and I couldn't tell him why I wanted it. So later that night I got a cart from a friend that his family used to put their garbage can on. This cart was basically like an upside down garbage can lid with small casters on the bottom. I rode my bike all the way out to the salt flats (about a mile one way) and hauled that friggin barrel back on the trail along the creek back to my house and it got dark while I was down there, I was FREAKING OUT pulling that darn barrel all that way along the creek. I would say that taught me better than anything my dad could have ever done.

Brian
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