re: Name something crazy your dad had you do growing up

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the shaking and the whole finding that perfect spot to not flip when you go on 2 wheels turning were what always scared the new friends to the camp

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First time i ever passed out was seeing my cousin in a coma after hitting his head on handlebars of a Big Red. That was it for me and three wheelers. He came out of it, thank God.

Growing up, there was never a time we didn’t have airplanes. We’d take one of the Cessna’s up so he could get the hours or we’d to go visit relatives.

By age 11-12, he taught me how to keep a heading, the wings level and watch the altimeter.

Then the instructions were to wake him up when the Monroe tower hailed.

Mom would have strangled him.

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Put up a basketball goal and then became totally engrossed in shooting baskets while we stood around and watched.

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Fixing to do that to my son the Christmas and can’t wait.

Not something my dad did, but something I did to my daughter, lol.

She has this amazing, long, curly red hair. She’s had it since she was birthed. For some reason when she was about 2-3, she would pull it out on strand at a time. I told her it was okay but to be careful because if she pulled the wrong one all of her hair would fall out.

She stopped immediately and it was never an issue again, lol.

my dad preached against the evils of rock and roll and burnt Beatles records

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break something out of rage while no one is around

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During the last week of driving an 83 Sentra wagon, I was leaving a friend's house after dinner. The generator needed replacing, so sometimes when you tried to crank it, it wouldn't even turn over. I had started backing into parking places that were at the top of a hill, so I could roll down, and pop the clutch with it in second gear. It usually cranked right up after rolling five or six yards. It didn't crank that day. I was pissed at myself for d*cking around, and putting off spending the money I had saved on a new car. I punched the windshield and cracked it. I was pissed nobody was with me to back up my story.

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ride around on a Honda big red at like 8 years old unsupervised without a helmet

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My son was doing that at 5. He had to slide down left side to shift, then center back up on the seat.

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guarding our shite with a filet knife. I was probably 11

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Holy frick that’s awesome

Third grade. Late May. We’d just moved back from Charlotte, NC where I’d spent Second grade. Dad decided-and told me he had decided-to pass lawn mowing duty to me. He would pre-edge, trim…”do the fine tuning, so to speak” as he put it.

So he turned me loose with an ancient, heavy, unwieldy iron mechanical push mower whose handle was too high for me to leverage to push and keep blades on the grass simultaneously.
This is close. Metalwork was heavier iron and the wheels were slightly wider with tread like groves
I tried everything, even tying a short rope to it and pulling it like a plow horse. After two hours or so and nothing to show but a varied patchwork of cuts, gouges, and mostly unmowed lawn-I summoned the courage to admit I was having troubles.
“Troubles?” What kind of troubles?” Have you broken my lawnmower?” “Be clear, what is the exact problem?”

I showed him. I wasn’t tall or strong enough.

“We’ll, I see your problem.” “We can fix that!”

So he cut the heavy wooden riser and remounted the handle so that, with Herculean effort, I could manage a nearly straight path and put enough pressure to cut swath with marginally less noticeable gapping and gouging.

“I’m sorry you didn’t tell me sooner. If you had, you wouldn’t have had to cut so much over again. Carry on Trooper.” A favorite nom de guerre given me when he was issuing instructions and orders.

I struggled throughout the Summer and early Fall into October and I know that Summer and Fall he sacrificed pride in being able to show off a more neatly cut lawn in order to mold his son into a champion lawn man.

Not surprisingly, Santa that Christmas mysteriously put a Western Auto power mower with Dad’s name on it under the tree. A mower he never used except to instruct me the following Spring into its proper use and maintenance.

Dad was true to his word. He never mowed his lawn after passing the duty to me that Summer.

As I’ve grown older, oddly, mowing my lawn has turned out to be the most difficult task I’ve been asked by my sons to relinquish to their capable hands.

Man this is a great thread. I’m loving reading all these and I’ve never met any of y’all. I can only hope my future kids will have stories half this good to remember!