Seems a lot of us older folks were raised in a "Spare not the rod" kind of homes. Maybe thats what's wrong with todays kids.
- Thread starter BullGear
- Start date
I'd stay with my aunt and uncle some times and she was famous for her hickory switches. They would cause a welt to come up more than a quarter of an inch. Sharpest pain you ever want to experience.
I was spanked with whatever was at arm's length. Belt, switch, spatula, section of hot wheels track. You name it. This little angel got it with all of them. But never, ever an open hand or fist. Looking back, I gotta say I loved all of those spankings. They taught a young raw WV kid how to overcome and become successful.
I used to take spinner fireworks and glue up the side hole, drill a hole in one end, and tape them to a skewer for cheap bottle rockets. I didn't have the drill technique down right, so they would shoot up about 15 feet, then have a delay in burn that was just long enough to tip horizontal and shoot off randomly all over the neighborhood. These were the ones that exploded at the end of their burn so it was interesting.
I eventually found out that running the drill bit a ways into the powder gave enough surface area for a good consistent burn. Run it too far in and the rocket would blow up. I got it down pretty well and had a bunch of cheap rockets.
You could buy the Cuckoo brand fountains and rip the screamers off the side and tape them to skewers. They were an inch and a half long but they would legitimately go 200 feet up into the air.
I grew up working on a ranch with a guy who became my dad essentially. Old SOG/LRRP type from Nam, he won't talk about it. He taught me to run a ranch, weld, work on cars and a whole lot about life. Most folks thought he was kinda goofy, but he was the wisest and most intelligent person I have ever met.
I eventually found out that running the drill bit a ways into the powder gave enough surface area for a good consistent burn. Run it too far in and the rocket would blow up. I got it down pretty well and had a bunch of cheap rockets.
You could buy the Cuckoo brand fountains and rip the screamers off the side and tape them to skewers. They were an inch and a half long but they would legitimately go 200 feet up into the air.
I grew up working on a ranch with a guy who became my dad essentially. Old SOG/LRRP type from Nam, he won't talk about it. He taught me to run a ranch, weld, work on cars and a whole lot about life. Most folks thought he was kinda goofy, but he was the wisest and most intelligent person I have ever met.
We had a big steep hill that lead down to a creek 15-29ft down with big vines hanging down from the trees, sometimes theyed break when you swung out over the drop, good luck to your ankles lol
Edit- 29 is oddly specific, fat fingered 30
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Big Bertha with Triple D engines or go home
To set the stage, we lived right next door to my Mammaw ( mom 's mother ). Pawpaw had passed before I was born,and left Mammaw roughly ,600 acres of hill land and 300 acres of delta farm land and a " country store " across the road from her house. The farm land and store was rented out ,but mammaw had roughly 30 head of cows that she tended to on the hill land . She had chickens ,too.....which leads to this childhood memory.
Every spring, Mammaw and I ( earliest I can recall I was 4-5 ?) would go into town to the "feed n seed " , to pick up her order of baby chicks( biddies is what she called them ) ,bring them home and put them in the " brooder house " brooder . She'd raise them up to " Fryin size " and butcher half ofum and put in the freezer, the rest went on into the chicken yard to become " layers" . Lord help the old hen that wouldn't lay an egg......it got it's ass tied to the " clothes line " and head promptly removed ,by Mammaw with her butcher knife ( L & M ciggerette hanging from the side of her mouth )and left to flop and bleed out ...........them were the " chicken n dumplings " chickens ,put into freezer with the " fryers". .........We ate a lot of chicken when I was growin up ( think Forest Gump and Bubba the shrimper) . And beef ....she'd feed out a steer and have it butchered every year,too.
Next memory......... Gardening and canning........Or maybe... "It's May ,the bull frogs are out. If you want to eat some,go up to the " hog pond" and get us a mess ofum ",said Mammaw........ Aw hell,now I'm remembering the yearly birthday trip to " Western Auto " to get a new "Western Flyer ? red wagon "......... I could "wear one out" in a years time .......pullin it up to the " hog pond " and ridin back down that hill on the cow trails.
Every spring, Mammaw and I ( earliest I can recall I was 4-5 ?) would go into town to the "feed n seed " , to pick up her order of baby chicks( biddies is what she called them ) ,bring them home and put them in the " brooder house " brooder . She'd raise them up to " Fryin size " and butcher half ofum and put in the freezer, the rest went on into the chicken yard to become " layers" . Lord help the old hen that wouldn't lay an egg......it got it's ass tied to the " clothes line " and head promptly removed ,by Mammaw with her butcher knife ( L & M ciggerette hanging from the side of her mouth )and left to flop and bleed out ...........them were the " chicken n dumplings " chickens ,put into freezer with the " fryers". .........We ate a lot of chicken when I was growin up ( think Forest Gump and Bubba the shrimper) . And beef ....she'd feed out a steer and have it butchered every year,too.
Next memory......... Gardening and canning........Or maybe... "It's May ,the bull frogs are out. If you want to eat some,go up to the " hog pond" and get us a mess ofum ",said Mammaw........ Aw hell,now I'm remembering the yearly birthday trip to " Western Auto " to get a new "Western Flyer ? red wagon "......... I could "wear one out" in a years time .......pullin it up to the " hog pond " and ridin back down that hill on the cow trails.
Hehe...
We made time delay fuses, light a cigarette and poke a hole in it and stick the m80 fuse in the hole, you now have an adjustable time delay.
first time we did it it seemed to take too long so we sent a kid down to ck on it and of course it went off right when he got there..
Priceless
Yep, things like that don't just happen in the movies.
High School age working in gas stations for $2.00 an hour.
Searching wrecking yards for high compression 440ci engines and other cool stuff.
Your mom coming home and asking why her dishwasher is running only to open it up and see a freshly machined rotating assembly inside and then you explaining how those are race car parts and they have to be clean.
Being chased by your Mother through the house with a broom raised over her head.
Searching wrecking yards for high compression 440ci engines and other cool stuff.
Your mom coming home and asking why her dishwasher is running only to open it up and see a freshly machined rotating assembly inside and then you explaining how those are race car parts and they have to be clean.
Being chased by your Mother through the house with a broom raised over her head.
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5 speed with " Springer front forks and front drum brakes " ?
Eating lunch with Grandpa. We would eat boiled hot dogs wrapped in Wonder Bread dipped in Ketchup. Not my favorite today, but good memories.
Two things that were forbidden . No going to the river and no playing on the train tracks .
So, we always went to the river and of course, we spent many hours messing around the train yards and grain elevators.
So, we always went to the river and of course, we spent many hours messing around the train yards and grain elevators.
My aunt and uncle on my mom's side lived in a mine company house. The coal cars and trains literally ran past their house no more than 40 ft from their front door. So of course when we visited with them, my cousin and I would play on, in and under the coal cars. Don't know why, those cars just pulled me in.
Being reminded by my mother that "if I had been the first borne, I would have been an only child". 
She still makes this statement on a regular basis.
She still makes this statement on a regular basis.Heh, we did that with trains.Not trains but street cars...in Pittsburg. Used to put pennies in the tracks to be flattened as they were run over. Ah, the simple pleasures of Eisenhower's America
If it smashes just right you can slowly drop it into a pinball game that used to cost a quarter.
You have to slowly drop it in then lightly tap tap just to the side of the coin slot and the games will rack up.
Of course I have no idea where this idea came from....boating accident, some random friend, I overheard it from some cop.....you know the deal.
Yes, I was a hellion back in the 60's and 70's.
Maybe that's the reason I am an only child ?Being reminded by my mother that "if I had been the first borne, I would have been an only child".
mom never said
More of a teenage memory than childhood, but my friends and I once brought my dirt bike on the roof of my High School and rode it around and then just drove it off the edge and into the parking lot. A CR125 is not heavy believe it or not.
Also, I'm disappointed with you boomers and your boring childhood memories. Weren't any of you lucky enough like I was to work on farms and discover the magic that is fertilizer and diesel?
Also, I'm disappointed with you boomers and your boring childhood memories. Weren't any of you lucky enough like I was to work on farms and discover the magic that is fertilizer and diesel?
Mine were gun related.
When I was around 8 years old, the neighbors across the street had a garage sale and in the sale was a German made break action pellet rifle. My dad purchased it, went down to the local gunshop and bought some pellets, and we took it in the back yard. We setup some cans on the old birdbath and he let me take some shots. I was hooked!
A year later, we were on a family vacation on the family property, and he pulled a long brown soft case out of the back of the station wagon. He unzipped it and out slid a Winchester 69A 22LR rifle with a box of 22LR. I shot and shot at misc boxes and cans until all the 22LR was gone.
A few years later we went to Pennsylvania to visit family. The 69A and a box of 22 came along. We stayed with my aunt who had a natural rise in her back yard that made the perfect backstop. I setup a little 22 range and shot until all the 22 was gone.
My mom gave me $5 and my grandpa, who wasn't much into guns, took me down to a little grocery store that had ammo. They had 50 count boxes of Remington Thunderbolt. I asked the woman behind the counter how many boxes $5 would buy. Her eyes got big and said that would be 8 boxes. My grandpa looked at me and asked why do you need so much?
I ended up buying 4 boxes to appease the adults and went back to my shooting range
When I was around 8 years old, the neighbors across the street had a garage sale and in the sale was a German made break action pellet rifle. My dad purchased it, went down to the local gunshop and bought some pellets, and we took it in the back yard. We setup some cans on the old birdbath and he let me take some shots. I was hooked!
A year later, we were on a family vacation on the family property, and he pulled a long brown soft case out of the back of the station wagon. He unzipped it and out slid a Winchester 69A 22LR rifle with a box of 22LR. I shot and shot at misc boxes and cans until all the 22LR was gone.
A few years later we went to Pennsylvania to visit family. The 69A and a box of 22 came along. We stayed with my aunt who had a natural rise in her back yard that made the perfect backstop. I setup a little 22 range and shot until all the 22 was gone.
My mom gave me $5 and my grandpa, who wasn't much into guns, took me down to a little grocery store that had ammo. They had 50 count boxes of Remington Thunderbolt. I asked the woman behind the counter how many boxes $5 would buy. Her eyes got big and said that would be 8 boxes. My grandpa looked at me and asked why do you need so much?
I ended up buying 4 boxes to appease the adults and went back to my shooting range
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I had one of those, it was silver and called the Gray Ghost.
Lived at Edwards AFB during the X-15 era (moved there in 55 or 56). One of my "jobs" was to take our coke bottles back to the store for the deposit and I get to keep the change. Usually spent it on comic books, or Sci Fi Pulps.
I stopped once at the Liquor store (right next to the market) and found out he gave a penny more for bottles, so 6 cents for a coke, and 11 cents for a quart soda bottle. I gave him a wagon load, and headed for home. On the way past the alley that led to the back of the stores, I noticed a cage with the door open full of soda bottles. Wow! I had no idea where they came from, but I went to it, parked my Radio Flyer, and filled it up with coke bottles. Two cases on the bottom (wooden cases, remember those/) and a bunch of quarts in the corners and laying on top. Got about a buck and a half, and told the guy, I'll be right back. Went back out to the cage, and loaded up again, and went back in. Now the box he kept the bottles in was getting full, so after I left, he decided to empty the box. You guessed it, into the cage. I walked around the corner, and down the alley, and boom, ran into the guy. He wasn't real mad, he sort of laughed and said "Hey, kid, you're cleaning me out!".
I asked him, what the deal was, and he told me patiently, that this was where he stored all the returns. I was pretty sad about this, and started digging into my pocket, but he said, "Hey, kid, Forget it. Just don't tell your friends". It was locked after that. Hey, I was only about 7 at the time.
That place was amazing. We could see the Engine Test Stands on the mountains on the other side of Roger's Dry Lake, which would fire engines occasionally, and we got to watch the X-15 fly a LOT! Three major air shows a year (Armed Forces Day, Open House, and 4th of July).
Moved from the old housing to the new housing, at that edge of the developed area was butted right up against the open desert. My brother and I ran around out there endlessly. Saw the X-15 land several times, climbed around inside the B-52 that carried it, and actually worked for my dad in the Big Hangar when I got a little older (changing TO's, taking pages out of the manufacturer's manual and replacing them with updated pages. Met Scott Crossfield, Ivan Kinchloe, and a couple of other pilots.
After that project he worked on the B-58, which was a really cool plane. Dad brought home a couple of jars of Epoxy. Said this is new stuff. Stunk to high heaven. He told us the the wings on the B-58 were honeycombed, and that the epoxy was what the company said to use to fix any damage to the wings. He said he wouldn't use it on more than a couple of inches, since he didn't trust it yet.
Lots more. Great time as a kid.
After he got out of the service, we moved to LA just before I said, "Uhuh" and joined the Army (1966). That last summer "Them" was on TV, so we had to get into the Storm Drains. Wow, what an adventure that was. We explored miles and miles of these tunnels.
"We didn't know what we had, and we didn't know we were the last".
I stopped once at the Liquor store (right next to the market) and found out he gave a penny more for bottles, so 6 cents for a coke, and 11 cents for a quart soda bottle. I gave him a wagon load, and headed for home. On the way past the alley that led to the back of the stores, I noticed a cage with the door open full of soda bottles. Wow! I had no idea where they came from, but I went to it, parked my Radio Flyer, and filled it up with coke bottles. Two cases on the bottom (wooden cases, remember those/) and a bunch of quarts in the corners and laying on top. Got about a buck and a half, and told the guy, I'll be right back. Went back out to the cage, and loaded up again, and went back in. Now the box he kept the bottles in was getting full, so after I left, he decided to empty the box. You guessed it, into the cage. I walked around the corner, and down the alley, and boom, ran into the guy. He wasn't real mad, he sort of laughed and said "Hey, kid, you're cleaning me out!".
I asked him, what the deal was, and he told me patiently, that this was where he stored all the returns. I was pretty sad about this, and started digging into my pocket, but he said, "Hey, kid, Forget it. Just don't tell your friends". It was locked after that. Hey, I was only about 7 at the time.
That place was amazing. We could see the Engine Test Stands on the mountains on the other side of Roger's Dry Lake, which would fire engines occasionally, and we got to watch the X-15 fly a LOT! Three major air shows a year (Armed Forces Day, Open House, and 4th of July).
Moved from the old housing to the new housing, at that edge of the developed area was butted right up against the open desert. My brother and I ran around out there endlessly. Saw the X-15 land several times, climbed around inside the B-52 that carried it, and actually worked for my dad in the Big Hangar when I got a little older (changing TO's, taking pages out of the manufacturer's manual and replacing them with updated pages. Met Scott Crossfield, Ivan Kinchloe, and a couple of other pilots.
After that project he worked on the B-58, which was a really cool plane. Dad brought home a couple of jars of Epoxy. Said this is new stuff. Stunk to high heaven. He told us the the wings on the B-58 were honeycombed, and that the epoxy was what the company said to use to fix any damage to the wings. He said he wouldn't use it on more than a couple of inches, since he didn't trust it yet.
Lots more. Great time as a kid.
After he got out of the service, we moved to LA just before I said, "Uhuh" and joined the Army (1966). That last summer "Them" was on TV, so we had to get into the Storm Drains. Wow, what an adventure that was. We explored miles and miles of these tunnels.
"We didn't know what we had, and we didn't know we were the last".
Possums were much better.
You open the mailbox door and are greeted with teeth and hissing...and possums are never to be mistaken with pretty.
My parents had a total of 17 years of schooling between them. They looked at our report cards and we got a ass beatin' if grades were subpar. Had chores from as early as I remember. Started working tobacco at age six. Removed cured tobacco from the sticks for grading. Graduated to driving the tractor around age eight, cropping at about 12 or 13 and into the packhouse by 16. We were required to work the family garden regardless of any jobs held.
Had various jobs before and after tobacco season. Worked at my dad's gas station washing cars, LOF, tune-ups, etc, painted Pargas tanks, buffed floors at the local nursing home, mowed lawns (usually for no pay as my mom said "They are our neighbors).
If church doors were open mom, little brother and I were there. Dad was there every other Sunday as that was his only day off. My mom made her clothes and some of ours. Our barber shop was out back (crewcuts) and we washed every night whether we wanted to or not. She could make a dollar look like Stretch Armstrong. Mom did all the cooking and cleaning until we were old enough to help. She also worked full time as a seamstress.
When my dad passed, my brother and I looked over their finances. I was shocked. They made less in a year than my wife and I in a month. Somehow, they managed to raise two buys, build a house, buy a car when needed and put food on the table. The church got their ten percent before any bills were paid. My brother and I never lacked any necessities and, as a child, every Christmas I remember thinking we must be rich. Took me a while to realize we were, just not financially.
Dad passed in 2008. I think about him every day. Mom is late 80s and very high maintenance these these days although she is very healthy for her age. She lives with my brother and me on a six month rotation. We vent with each other, but always remember what she did for us.
My childhood was typical.
Summers in Rangoon. Luge lessons.
In the spring we'd make meat helmets
When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really.
At the age of 12 I received my first Scribe.
At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles.
There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking...
R
Summers in Rangoon. Luge lessons.
In the spring we'd make meat helmets
When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really.
At the age of 12 I received my first Scribe.
At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles.
There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking...
R
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The clock..
Grew up in OC Cali. When orange groves were abundant.
Tip = don't throw rotten oranges at black and white cars, unless you needed a quick ride home, and then an ass whooping from dad.
Grew up in OC Cali. When orange groves were abundant.
Tip = don't throw rotten oranges at black and white cars, unless you needed a quick ride home, and then an ass whooping from dad.
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Arriver at Edwards in November of "65". Dad worked at the Rocket lab across the lake bed. 8th grade, awesome place!
Fall of 1993, my first deer hunt with my dad, I was 14. My Dad was a Vietnam Draftee, hated guns, hated being in the woods more. I was adopted at birth, so my desire to hunt and love of guns was certainly genetic, and not inherited from him. I had a Mossberg 500 shotgun with the 28" barrel purchased with money earned from mowing lawns. Loaded with slugs, and to make things worse (for him), it was raining that morning. Instead of bailing on taking me because of the rain (which being in raining woods reminds him of vietnam), he took me, and toughed it out. It sucked, it was cold, everything was wet including us, and we didn't see shit, and looking back the gunfire around us wasn't helping him. I will always remember, and appreciate, that fact that he took me anyway, and didn't bail on that. He's bailed on plenty more things, and even today he's a virtual stranger to my daughters who are 14 and 17, and he lives 20min away. I will unlikely see them these coming holidays because i'm unvaccinated, and not liberal, and thus won't be invited. I try to remember the good memories, and leave the bads ones to die on their own. He's 78 now, and it seems like the only times that I see him are when he stops by and drops of gifts for the girls for their birthdays or xmas (which he comes while they're at school so he doesn't have to see them), or when i'm in the hospital for my, hopefully no longer reoccurring, medical issues. Each time I see him he looks a little worse. I will however always remember that he did that for me.
Branden
Branden
I have a friend,
, who shot off 70 bottle rockets inside the high school hallway, on the last day of school. It's my understanding, that they looked for him a long time, but they never figured out who it was. dude, you should punch that cock sucker in his face and stuff those stupid gifts up his stupid dumb ass.
fuck people like that.
We would stand shoulder to shoulder in the road taking turns lighting and throwing bottle rockets down the road as far as we could most of the time they’d launch back towards us and if you were “tough” you’d just stand still like a moron.I have a friend,
I remember one hitting the toe of a kids boot, it ricocheted towards his face direct hit to the nose and it exploding.
I had a big shell launch up, not explode, then BOOM right in my face lol
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I'm supposed to be working on our cabin's foundation right now but I'm not in the mood and its cold out, brrrr.
Born in 1960... one of my earliest memories was riding on my blue Dino the dinosaur about age 4 or so. Funny how things stick in the noggin.
Dad was stationed in the Philippines a year or so later. I remember our gardener taking me on his shoulders to a sugar cane field and cutting one for me. I remember the local tribe, the Negritos, sold us a 1 gallon glass jar literally stuffed full of lizards, snakes, and amphibians to let loose in the garden. That is the coolest thing a little boy can possibly see I'll tell yuh, lol!!!
I remember some older boys that were shooting at a dead bat tied to a fence with their bb guns.
I'm told that I tried to stab our house maid in the butt with some scissers because she killed my pet spider. I ran and hid under a chair and told my mom I was indivisible, yes that's the word I used. Drug out from under it and SMACK followed by a spanking, I found out that I wasn't invisible after all, lol!
Dad gets stationed to MO. Parents bought me a havahart trap and I caught chipmunks all summer then let them go.
I learned what chiggers were.
Saw a snapping turtle in the creek.
Most fond memory was when my Dad was invited over to a friends house who had kids with BB guns. Tin cans getting knocked off sawhorses, I could hit em. Loved shooting ever since.
My birthday came and I got a edit-Daisy Field Master pump BB gun.
I wore it out within a year and things were made better back then too.
Now 10 years old and Dad got stationed to Ramstein Germany. Christmas came and I got a Diana M27 spring piston pellet rifle. These were high quality guns. I think my dad bought a tin a week for me.
In town at the fireworks stand my friend and I bought what we called 1/4 sticks of dynamite. To this day this is what I really believe they were. We blew up stumps and the naughtiest thing we did was blow up a large ash can in the neighbors basement, lol. The lid totally flattened when it hit the concrete ceiling and the can was bulged and split on the seam, as we found out 3-4 days later when we returned to the crime scene to see what had happened. We were lucky we didn't get busted or blow our fingers off.
My school teacher was hot, lol. Can't forget that. It's funny how that at some point the hormones start to kick in and the shape of a pretty female becomes mystical?!
Age 11 my first time I took a girl to a movie, lori Watson. I went to put my arm around her shoulder after much internal turmoil, as well as extreme bravery, at which time I accidentally hit her on the side of her face with my hand, haha. She actually apologized to me for whatever reason, I guess to smooth things over, lol???? Of course I admitted my mistake too but how could I ever forget that one!!!
Stationed in IL now. At age 12 my Dad bought me a Savage Anschutz 141M 22 mag. We had to go to a hunting preserve to shoot it. At the end of the day my Dad opened the trunk to put the rifle in it and while trying to unload it shot a hole in the trunk lid of our new Olds Tornado. Mom wern't too happy!
I found out why that happened "how that happened" years later at age 15 when I shot the fore end of my friends Remington 5mm with that same gun by accident! Scary because my Mom had dropped us off out in the FS a half hour from our house for the day to go hunting.
What was wrong was "if the safety was put "halfway on", then when the trigger was pulled to check if the safety was indeed on, "the gun would fire by itself when the safety was disengaged". I learned a sobering lesson about knowing where your muzzle is pointed at all times. It could have ended up with me killing my best friend. Thank you Jesus that it didn't turn out worse!
Born in 1960... one of my earliest memories was riding on my blue Dino the dinosaur about age 4 or so. Funny how things stick in the noggin.
Dad was stationed in the Philippines a year or so later. I remember our gardener taking me on his shoulders to a sugar cane field and cutting one for me. I remember the local tribe, the Negritos, sold us a 1 gallon glass jar literally stuffed full of lizards, snakes, and amphibians to let loose in the garden. That is the coolest thing a little boy can possibly see I'll tell yuh, lol!!!
I remember some older boys that were shooting at a dead bat tied to a fence with their bb guns.
I'm told that I tried to stab our house maid in the butt with some scissers because she killed my pet spider. I ran and hid under a chair and told my mom I was indivisible, yes that's the word I used. Drug out from under it and SMACK followed by a spanking, I found out that I wasn't invisible after all, lol!
Dad gets stationed to MO. Parents bought me a havahart trap and I caught chipmunks all summer then let them go.
I learned what chiggers were.
Saw a snapping turtle in the creek.
Most fond memory was when my Dad was invited over to a friends house who had kids with BB guns. Tin cans getting knocked off sawhorses, I could hit em. Loved shooting ever since.
My birthday came and I got a edit-Daisy Field Master pump BB gun.
I wore it out within a year and things were made better back then too.
Now 10 years old and Dad got stationed to Ramstein Germany. Christmas came and I got a Diana M27 spring piston pellet rifle. These were high quality guns. I think my dad bought a tin a week for me.
In town at the fireworks stand my friend and I bought what we called 1/4 sticks of dynamite. To this day this is what I really believe they were. We blew up stumps and the naughtiest thing we did was blow up a large ash can in the neighbors basement, lol. The lid totally flattened when it hit the concrete ceiling and the can was bulged and split on the seam, as we found out 3-4 days later when we returned to the crime scene to see what had happened. We were lucky we didn't get busted or blow our fingers off.
My school teacher was hot, lol. Can't forget that. It's funny how that at some point the hormones start to kick in and the shape of a pretty female becomes mystical?!
Age 11 my first time I took a girl to a movie, lori Watson. I went to put my arm around her shoulder after much internal turmoil, as well as extreme bravery, at which time I accidentally hit her on the side of her face with my hand, haha. She actually apologized to me for whatever reason, I guess to smooth things over, lol???? Of course I admitted my mistake too but how could I ever forget that one!!!
Stationed in IL now. At age 12 my Dad bought me a Savage Anschutz 141M 22 mag. We had to go to a hunting preserve to shoot it. At the end of the day my Dad opened the trunk to put the rifle in it and while trying to unload it shot a hole in the trunk lid of our new Olds Tornado. Mom wern't too happy!
I found out why that happened "how that happened" years later at age 15 when I shot the fore end of my friends Remington 5mm with that same gun by accident! Scary because my Mom had dropped us off out in the FS a half hour from our house for the day to go hunting.
What was wrong was "if the safety was put "halfway on", then when the trigger was pulled to check if the safety was indeed on, "the gun would fire by itself when the safety was disengaged". I learned a sobering lesson about knowing where your muzzle is pointed at all times. It could have ended up with me killing my best friend. Thank you Jesus that it didn't turn out worse!
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The same mine was an abandoned trailer park that literally had trees growing through it I shot the windows out with a bb gun.
My folks tell a similar tale...Being reminded by my mother that "if I had been the first borne, I would have been an only child".
Apparently when they got married mom asked dad how many kids he wanted. His answer: 11, I want a whole football team.
So I was #1.
He then told mom they could try once for a girl. My sister came along and they quit.
My fondest childhood memory: Not being tired, stiff, and sore all the time.
Mike
NOPE. my dad saved and re-used everything, but one of his rules was never re-use a nail.
i remember getting up way too early and going 2 hours up to penna with my dad and his buddy and son, and meeting my uncle and nephew, to go pheasant hunting for the day at a big farm there. farmer had a brittany he let us use. we picked apples off the trees when hungry. on the way home, coconut custard pie at a local diner.
antigunners and antihunters just don't understand the total quality family time that comes with hunting and the shooting sports. 12+ hours literally side by side vs being dropped off at a soccer game or left in front of the tv playing video games.
Being young in northeast Kansas was a great time. My dad was a bow hunter and I was going with him before I could walk. Whenever a buck a walked close enough for him to draw on I always laughed really loud. The damn deer would run away and he would whack me upside the head. Not in a mad way but more of a what the hell is wrong with you way.
When I was was 6-8 me and the neighbor kids hunted frogs around their pond with our 10-22’s. You wouldn’t believe how many 30 rnd mags three youngins could carry. Also those same friends and I would stand in the middle of said frozen pond and shoot at the ice until it broke thru to see how thick it was. Somehow no one ever got shot.
Hell I was driving before I hit double digits and grandpa and I used to cut up lumber in his basement (full wood shop) into 1” squares and take them to the creek to throw in so I could shoot them from the bridge with a Remington nylon. Still have that gun.
When I was was 6-8 me and the neighbor kids hunted frogs around their pond with our 10-22’s. You wouldn’t believe how many 30 rnd mags three youngins could carry. Also those same friends and I would stand in the middle of said frozen pond and shoot at the ice until it broke thru to see how thick it was. Somehow no one ever got shot.
Hell I was driving before I hit double digits and grandpa and I used to cut up lumber in his basement (full wood shop) into 1” squares and take them to the creek to throw in so I could shoot them from the bridge with a Remington nylon. Still have that gun.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize; he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament...
I was cleaning out my mother in law’s cabinets a few months ago and found an old plastic lunch pail from the 80’s. I don’t know if the plastic fumes created some kind of psychedelic gas but as soon as I opened it up and took a whif of the inside the smell took me right back to 1st grade, lol. Something about that BPA laden plastic that just transports you back in time. Old toys too, open up a box of old 80’s GI Joes and your right back in the K-Mart toy isle in 1986.
Guns too, nothing beats the smell of a wood gun cabinet filled with Remington and Winchesters that have been cleaned with Hoppes number 9. That will back to the future your ass too!!!!!
Guns too, nothing beats the smell of a wood gun cabinet filled with Remington and Winchesters that have been cleaned with Hoppes number 9. That will back to the future your ass too!!!!!
I always remember snapper fishing in the summer. Yeah, I know, it's one of those "why when I was a kid" kind of things, but it does amaze me, especially when I see kids today that don't even seem to be allowed to wait for the school bus alone.
Probably starting at about 9 years old (and my best friend who lived across the street and was two years younger), my mother or his would drive down to the harbor around 6:30-7:00 AM and drop us off at the dock. Then someone would come pick us up after dark FOURTEEN HOURS LATER! lmao
I can remember a couple times having a thermos of what ended up being HOT lemonade or ice tea, but not always. No water, no food, no bathrooms. Today that would be called child abuse, you might argue it was then too. lol But we never gave it a second thought, it was wonderful freedom.
Probably starting at about 9 years old (and my best friend who lived across the street and was two years younger), my mother or his would drive down to the harbor around 6:30-7:00 AM and drop us off at the dock. Then someone would come pick us up after dark FOURTEEN HOURS LATER!
lmaoI can remember a couple times having a thermos of what ended up being HOT lemonade or ice tea, but not always. No water, no food, no bathrooms. Today that would be called child abuse, you might argue it was then too. lol But we never gave it a second thought, it was wonderful freedom.
I called a whole police department assholes when I was 3-4, I probably overheard something one too many times. It was a family members coworkers.
I don't remember getting I trouble but I vaguely remember doing it. I probably got candy for it.
I don't remember getting I trouble but I vaguely remember doing it. I probably got candy for it.
I was much too young to remember this but it’s funny hearing my dad tell it
My dad and uncle were best friends in high school before they married sisters and became brothers-in-law and they’ve also been drag racing for that long as well. One night I was with them working on the car, I was probably 2 or 3. One of the slicks was just barely sitting on the wheel studs. One of them moved the car a bit doing something and the slick wobbled off and rolled to hit the garage door. I toddled over to it and started kicking it while screaming “fucking thing, fucking thing”. My dad said they couldn’t really yell at me for what I did. Not because I said the worst word, they were laughing too hard to even breathe
My dad and uncle were best friends in high school before they married sisters and became brothers-in-law and they’ve also been drag racing for that long as well. One night I was with them working on the car, I was probably 2 or 3. One of the slicks was just barely sitting on the wheel studs. One of them moved the car a bit doing something and the slick wobbled off and rolled to hit the garage door. I toddled over to it and started kicking it while screaming “fucking thing, fucking thing”. My dad said they couldn’t really yell at me for what I did. Not because I said the worst word, they were laughing too hard to even breathe
I grew up in Hawaii so I lived a bit of a different childhood. We fished by the irrigation canal for tilapia, and cut sugar cane and ate it. One of my favorite things was spearfishing. We would go out for 5 hours regularly and never touch land. Just swim the whole time. I could go down 40ft and lay on the bottom for a while. Once we filled two 5 gallon buckets with octopus which was quite a haul. I remember finding .50 BMG shells and m1907 fuzes while diving around some of the WWII gunnery ranges. We would find tank traps and such cemented into the reef from the war as anti landing craft obstacles. Ironically the tank traps were made from railroad rails that said made in Germany on them.
I grew up working on a cattle ranch with an old MACV SOG/LRRP type. He never said exactly who he was with but he mentioned doing a lot of work in Cambodia. I loved fixing fence with him in the morning listening to the cattle and peacocks sound off. Every now and then the ranch dog would catch a peacock and eat the whole thing and be sick for a few days.
We would go shoe some horses a few times a week and I would learn a lot.
I grew up in a neighborhood where all the old guys were 442nd ID vets from WWII. I pulled a German 88mm AP round out of my neighbor's closet once. My other neighbor found 2 crates of potato masters while cleaning out a house for an estate sale. It was fun growing up there.
I could buy whole tuna from the fishing boat captain for a dollar a pound and got free lychee fruit, mangos, tangarines, oranges, pomegranates, etc all the time.
I loved growing up, but the town that used to take 5 minutes to drive through now takes an hour and a half due to tourists and the state hates guns and hunters, so I left and never looked back.
I do miss the spearfishing.
If anyone here plans to do a Hawaii vacation, PM me and I can help you do it cheap compared to the standard hotel/rental car vacation plans.
I grew up working on a cattle ranch with an old MACV SOG/LRRP type. He never said exactly who he was with but he mentioned doing a lot of work in Cambodia. I loved fixing fence with him in the morning listening to the cattle and peacocks sound off. Every now and then the ranch dog would catch a peacock and eat the whole thing and be sick for a few days.
We would go shoe some horses a few times a week and I would learn a lot.
I grew up in a neighborhood where all the old guys were 442nd ID vets from WWII. I pulled a German 88mm AP round out of my neighbor's closet once. My other neighbor found 2 crates of potato masters while cleaning out a house for an estate sale. It was fun growing up there.
I could buy whole tuna from the fishing boat captain for a dollar a pound and got free lychee fruit, mangos, tangarines, oranges, pomegranates, etc all the time.
I loved growing up, but the town that used to take 5 minutes to drive through now takes an hour and a half due to tourists and the state hates guns and hunters, so I left and never looked back.
I do miss the spearfishing.
If anyone here plans to do a Hawaii vacation, PM me and I can help you do it cheap compared to the standard hotel/rental car vacation plans.
