Dad stories
 

We all have them. Stories your pop told you about his younger life. I've heard many of them, sometimes more than once but listen intently ever single time and love every minute of them. I bet ya'll have some great ones to tell as well. I'm however, not a great writer so bare with me here.

My Dad was born in 29 and at around 20 years old joined the Air force with his younger brother. They were stationed in Alaska and both have always been avid hunters. They would get on what he calls a puddle jumper and fly out, drop off fuel, fly back, get more fuel and do the same thing again. They could really get out there that way.

Anyway, they were on one of these hunting excursions when they happened upon an old prospectors cabin way out in nowhere land. They decided it was a good place to spend the night and settled in. Soon after they notice squirrels running around on the rafters, etc. Well, Dad being the hunter type pulled out his side arm (probably a 1911 I assume) and took some shots at them. My Uncle joined in on the fun.

He now starts laughing about it as he continues the story. "The next morning we decided to see what was up in the attic...boxes of blasting caps and dynamite" he chuckled. "Guess we're lucky to be here huh?!"

When my dad was in high school (late 1920s) he was called upon by his English teacher to make a sentence using the words defense, defeat and detail. After thinking for a second or two he said: De cat jumped over de fence, de feet went before de tail. His grade that day was not very good but the class got a big chuckle out of it!

I always hunted with Dad as a kid. On my 16rh birthday I got a Browning A5 Sweet 16. I had been using a 12 ga Ithaca Fearherlight. A big difference.

I was excited to go dove hunting with the A5. I couldn't hit chit. I didn't get my limit.

Dad knew of my poor shooting so on the way back to the truck he asked to see the A5. We hadn't taken 5 steps when a dove flew in front of us. A LONG way out. Dad raises the gun, pops off a shot, the dove crumples.

Dad hands me back the gun and says "Ain't the gun".

Lol!

During WWII, my father was an Army Captain running supply convoys up and down the Burma / Ledo road. On one trip a bunch of Japanese bombers flew over the convoy so all the drivers stopped and jumped into the ditch for cover. It just happened that one of the truck drivers had grabbed his carbine and wound up next to my dad, the Captain. My dad looked over at the driver and said "give me your carbine". The driver firmly clutched his rifle and said "no suh, Captain suh, you get your own gun"! The reply tickled my dad and he got a good laugh. It turned out that the Jap bombers must have already made their bombing run because they did not bother the convoy!

My version of Sooner's story:

We didn't have much money growing up so my dad fixed up some old bikes for my brother and I. Of course, somebody organized a race for all the neighborhood kids.

I came in last as you might have guessed and threw the bike down, skulked around all pouty and all the while kicking that stupid bike.

So dad hollars out and gets a repeat race all set up but with him on my stupid bike. Of course he won the race. He throws down the bike and says to all "It ain't the bike."

Going through a dark time now. Dad is 90, mom is in a nursing home under hospice care and no one can go see her due to CV19. Don't get me started. I'm in GA, dad in MI. Been spending hours every day on the phone with him.

He was in the Coast Guard. Told me this one today. First day on the ship, it was rough and he was on the rail puking his guts out with a few other newbies. An old salt walked by and said, son, you need to develop a stronger stomach. Dad looked back at him and said, what do you mean....I'm throwing it further than anyone.

No. We don’t.
My dad came home from work every afternoon, brought home a paycheck every week, didn’t drink, didn’t yell at or hit anyone, didn’t do anything bad, but he didn’t talk to his children.
Edit:
On second thought, I turned 18 a few weeks before I graduated from high school. Our principal brought me in and had me register for the draft. A couple of weeks later dad found out and went to the school and ripped the principal a new *******. In my entire life I’ve never seen him so worked up.
Something happened to him in WWII. I have no idea what. I do know he got disability checks for the rest of his life. And he hated the military. But he never said why.

Kinda with you there. He's fortunately mellowed with age. I am guilty of same.

I read fun children books to my little kids before bed. They would eat it up as the old man gave them two minutes.

One night I was tired of the books and made a story up about how I dug a secret tunnel from Mentor, OH to downtown Cleveland. Like 30 miles. I can't even remember the reason for the passageway.

I had to dig and dig and remove the rubble by hand so I could continue progress. I worked the story. They bought it because I could see it in their eyes.

Mike, Sorry to hear about your Mom - and I can't imagine not being able to have someone visit/check in on her. That is a funny story you shared from your Dad.

To those of you familiar with Reader's Digest - you'll relate. One of the joke sections was titled something like "Life in these United States." Well, my dad told a co-worker about something that happened one evening to the family and the coworker submitted the story and got paid the $100 or whatever for the published story.

I've got three older sisters - and this happened before I was born. One evening as my parents were watching TV, they realized they hadn't heard anything from the girls room for a while. My dad called out - "Denise (my oldest sister), what are you girls doing in there?" Her answer "Nothing, but I guess we better stop!"

My dad served in the 96th Infantry in the Pacific during WW2. One night, somewhere in the Philippines, his platoon was on night patrol, and had to bivouac in the jungle. They ran wire around the perimeter, and attached ration cans as an alarm system. Sometime in the middle of the night, the cans started rattling, and everyone opened up with their weapons in the general direction of the noise. All quiet after that. In the morning they found a cow that more resembled a piece of Swiss cheese. He hasn't told me a lot of stories, but that's one that I remember. He's 95 and still kickin'.

My dad was about 14 years old growing up in Milwaukee. It was well into the depression years. The Milwaukee Journal news paper was offering a bicycle to paper delivery boys. If you stayed with the job for a year, the bike was yours. He had never ridden a bike before in his life but he really wanted one. So he applied for the job. Before any boy got the job, they had to prove that they could ride a bike. They put him on a brand new bike and away he went. A little wobbly at first but once he got going he managed to stay up. The street was on a hill and it was a terrifying ride to the bottom. He managed to take a corner, and once he was out of site, crashed into the back of a paddlers cart. The old guy pulling the cart came around and dusted my dad off, assessed the situation and gave him a pep talk. After some coaxing, and encouragement, my dad got back on the bike and rode back up the hill to take his new job. He sold the bike when he enlisted in the Army Air Corps at the beginning of WWII.

Damn, you guys are old!

I'm going to be 50 this year. My parents weren't born until after WWII. Most of these stories sound like something that would have come from my grandfathers. Grandpa #1 had been a fire chief in Cincinnati before they moved to FL. His parents, German, were up there. There seems to have been some sort of falling out, I'm assuming due to him divorcing his first wife. I never heard anything about his early life. Grandpa #2 was in WWII. From what I understand from my mom and aunts and uncles, he never really spoke about it to anyone. I believe he was in the Pacific at the end of the war and held no love for the Japanese. My dad passed when he was 57. I don't have a lot of stories but I know about his various cars (he was a gearhead) and he taught me about working on cars.

I liked my dad until I got to know him. He was never much interested in me after about age 12. And before that we weren't a close loving family. I'm just a product of a marriage that didn't work.

He was a suit, president of the Rotary Club, member of the country club. I was a greaser. Not lifestyle, cars. He liked big fancy cars, I liked fast cars and VW's. He played golf. I played volleyball and baseball until I was 35. I raced karts from age 14 to age 47.

I've built or somehow restored or majorly improved somewhere around 30 cars. VW's (lost count) to Corvettes (5) to Porsches (7) and 2 MG's, a '36 and a '50. I've had a Chevy PU of one year or another since age 19. And then there were some motorcycles, no heavy iron, all light and fast.

He went to USC, I went to some college but fell short of 4 year degree. I was such an undeclared major that they were about to toss me out anyway, or just let me take classes that didn't give me any credit. I had a lot of English classes and welding. Somehow that doesn't help add up to a BA.

I've never worked for anyone more than 6 months, always on the hustle. He was Don Draper in Mad Men. Every bit of it. He wouldn't let me mow the lawn when I was around 13, he thought I was a flake. I had 2 lawn mowing accounts across the street. Never missed a week.

Bought my first car with my own money, a 5 year old (at the time) '57 283. I was 17. I was out of the house forever at 18. No more Corvette, a truck and a VW.

No fooking golf. No Lincoln Continentals. Night and day.

My Pop will be 94 in May. Now that my Mom passed and my wife passed, we have been spending a lot of time together.
He is starting to reflect on his life now and tells me stories about his past experiences.
Two come to mind.

He was in the pacific during WWII
His ship was dive bombed by a Japanize Zero. He was on top deck as a loader and everyone was shooting at the plane.
About 100 yards before impact the Zero tipped down and disappeared in the ocean.
Another time I was with him.
My sister and her girlfriend came running into our house screaming and crying. Some young men down at the river tried to rape them.
My Pop Grabbed my 12 Ga shotgun and handed me (I was 15 at the time) his 38. We went running down the levee to where my sister said these guys were.
When we approached them, one mouthed off... "Whatcha hunting for mister?"
My dad pointed the shotgun in his face and said... "teenagers."
These guys took off into the river and swam the 200 feet to the other side.
Pretty intense.

I have a few from my dads days as a state legislator, but those would have to go in PARF.

One that wasn't Dem v Rep was the Speakers golf tournament. The Legislators often were paired with a lobbyist, a staffer and a guest of the lobby or speaker. He was paired with a former legistator turned lobbyist.

My dad could not hit it over the water on a short par 3. He emptied his own bag in his attempts, then told the lobbyist to give him some balls. After about 5 more in the drink, the lobbyist started to complain that he was running out of balls.

My dad said, "Whitworth, if you can't afford this game, why do you play?".

My dad was a gear head and got his first car when he was 13. It was a 38 Ford sedan. He fixed it all up and used to go out driving around - this would have been 1955. When my grandfather found out, he took off the wheels so dad and his buddies used to go sit in the car and listen to the radio. Then something happened and my grandfather sold the car. My dad was so pissed off that he moved out of the house (he only told me this recently). When things simmered down, he moved back home (maybe a month or so).

Dad then built 2 dragsters with a friend. The first was a model T with a Chrysler 392 he built they didn’t like the high speed stability of the flat windshield. The second had a Messerschmidt body and was the first car in western Canada to run a supercharger at NHRA sanctioned events. Dad was 16 when they started racing the Messerschmitt that he and a friend built.

Here are some early photos of the Messerschmidt (no blower yet).

Taken behind my grandfather’s garage in Edmonton and has been posted all over the interwebs, notably by jalopnik.

http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1587646526.jpg

Another taken behind my grandfather’s place.

http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1587646679.jpg

Dad prevented me from getting into racing when I was younger. He always said that all you get is a bunch of trophies that your kids wreck, they promise to fix them but never do.

Oh yes. And in hindsight those stories were probably as embellished and excessive as my stories are for my kids. They picture my younger me as this bad boy super lover. :D

My dad lived it to age 82 and my mom until age 78. They were married for over 50 years. Till death do they part.

When I was a kid and even until I left home dad was in the US Air Force and a pilot. In the early years he was gone on TDY (temp duty) to far away places on a regular basis. In later life he was in Air Force intelligence and often worked 16 hour days for week at a time. We did not talk a lot back then.

When I moved away from home in search of a better paying job I picked Oklahoma City first because I had 4 grandparents here. I was pretty sure if I went to hang out on Sunday afternoon Grandma would invite me to eat with them. Best meal of the week.

I did spend time at my grandparents house and got a lot of stories from grandpa, and many were about my dad as a boy. When dad retired and my parents moved to OKC as a final move after 16 moves in his career, I got to spend more time talking.

Dad had an interesting career. In 1966 he was stationed as a remote (no family members) in S. Korea. He came home after 6 months for what was supposed to be a month with us. On his second day home the Pueblo was seized, and his commander called, said pack your back and be ready, we will come pick you up in an hour. The Air Force stole my daddy for a year more.

He said the the base there was always at the bottom of the supply chain, so they put in request for projector bulbs even month just to hold briefings. After the Pueblo was seized, they were changed to a top priority, only after the Pentagon level, so every back order for the last 10 years was filled. He said they had the halls lined with projector bulbs. Part of his job was to find places to park all the incoming aircraft, and find tents and places to house all the troops.

He had hundreds of stories, and I just wish I was smart enough to have recorded them. Same regret for my grandfather's stories. My mom's dad was already on the road to dementia by the time I moved here, so no real stories from him just both grandmas.

http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1587648969.jpg

This is dad in 1967. That base is north of the 38th parallel, and pretty remote. He had some interesting stories about it.