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I have been working on the Tiger a lot and it has spurred some great memories of my dad. This one may be a bit “controversial”. I go between laughing and being embarrassed!

My dad was pretty far into his cancer fight and I was getting the car running after sitting for 10 years. I really wanted to take him for one last drive before he passed away. I took him with me on a run to the local hardware store for some fasteners I needed for the fan shroud. Keep in mind, all the visible fasteners on this car are either polished stainless or chrome. Luckily for us, the local Ace Hardware carried a great selection, and he bought most of them from that store as he was building the car. On this day, we walk in and I grab about 10 metric nuts, bolts, and washers from the chrome stuff. It was like $60 in parts. As I am writing the prices on the envelops, dad pushes his walker over to me and looks over my shoulder. He says “what the hell are you doing?” and I replied I was putting the part numbers and prices on the envelope. He says ”No no no”, grabs the envelope and heads over to the cheap-ass ¼ x 20 bin and writes those numbers and prices down! He says he bought all the hardware for the car that way. At the cashiers' stand I could not even look the gal in the eyes. I bet he saved $500 over the life of the build by doing that. Part of me wants to go back to the Ace and pay up. Damn, I miss him doing shit like that.
 

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My story related to my Dad is in two parts. First part is all my friends busting on me for having kids so late in life “who’s gonna teach them to play ball” they said. My response to all of them was no one is less qualified to teach any little m fer to play it’s not me. Rebuild a Holley or do brakes >>> that’s me! But anything with a stick or ball related>>> forget it. I ended up with two girls and at 16 and 13 both have learned to change a tire, one knows how to weld with a MIG welder and the little one helped me with some repairs on the race car body work, He thought me, and I am teaching them

When he was stricken with cancer and at deaths door we had to talk DNR forms. He knew it was over, and when he signed the form he threw the pen over his shoulder like he was signing a his life away so to speak. And he was. The next day he died. He raced midgets as a young man was a volunteer firefighter in town, the mayor for 8 years like his father, and when he died we had viewings for two days at the recommendation of the funeral home because the funeral home director knew what to expect. He has been gone for 25 years. I’m in tears writing this. My cousin and I were just talking about him tonight at his shop earlier. May God bless all that have gone before us.
 

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My dads favorite story to tell was how he grew up on a farm. They grew watermelons and used to keep
Them under the bed to stay cool because they didn’t have a refrigerator. This was propably in the 30’s. He was not a car guy but the only two things he used to tell me was how he had some old car and they cut the muffler off and used to go in town and rev up the engine to hear I echo between the buildings. The other one was how to clean the battery terminals with baking soda. Good times
 

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I don't know why my dad thought this was so funny, but he would ask me this about once a year when I was growing up:

"You know that oriental girls have sideways pussies, right?"

Me: "No they don't."

Dad: "Yes, they, do. How do you think I learned how to play harmonica in Vietnam?" And then he'd pretend he was playing harmonica and laugh like crazy.
 

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Discussion Starter #5
He has been gone for 25 years. I’m in tears writing this. My cousin and I were just talking about him tonight at his shop earlier. May God bless all that have gone before us.
My dad has been gone 6 years and I miss him every day. Good for you keeping his legacy alive!
 

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Discussion Starter #6
I don't know why my dad thought this was so funny, but he would ask me this about once a year when I was growing up:

"You know that oriental girls have sideways pussies, right?"

Me: "No they don't."

Dad: "Yes, they, do. How do you think I learned how to play harmonica in Vietnam?" And then he'd pretend he was playing harmonica and laugh like crazy.
HAHA!!!
 

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I was about ten years old and got a rupp mini bike for my birthday. Pretty much the best present I ever got. My dad worked midnights at Ford so every couple days I would sneak it out and blast up and down the street before school. One day before school I’m doing my thing, got one hand pinning the governor down, head between the handle bars balls out down the street and there’s my Dad standing in the driveway in his tighty whities. Hell of a oh shit moment. Didn’t know he changed shifts. Fucker sold it a couple days later. A hard lesson learned, one of many.
 

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T/S 368E
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.

Not exactly the black sheep, but no memories either.
Abandoned us when I was one because my mother was a POS and lied about being pregnant, I was born 11 months so obviously she lied!!!.
My father was the smartest guy in school, and she was looking for a free ride I assume.
When I was sick in my early 50's the VA caseworker tracked him down, because my wife and all my grandparents were already passed, to inform him I had cancer and he hung up on her.

Sounds like a great guy!!!

.
 

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Dad's been gone for I guess 6 years now. By far the biggest influence in my life, and probably one of the largest for my son as well. Starts off his career working in manufacturing. Becomes a shop teacher later. Then at 50 he becomes a respected school superintendent and earns his phd. Loved drag racing and helped support mine. Loved hunting, and later just shooting. Wasn't afraid to tell you, or anyone, that you are wrong and why. And was never too big to accept that he was wrong. And man, he could have a temper. LOL. Never AT anyone. Just with situations and machinery. Seeing him lose his shit on a bug fogger was one of the funniest things I can remember in my lifetime.( I never knew those could act like a flame thrower!) That and getting his new tahoe stuck in the snow at a fundraiser dinner. Damn thing just sunk right down. He's reving it back and forth and you could clearly hear him yelling everything but the F bomb. I finally went up to the window, which he rolled down. I asked how it was going. Very calmly like nothing was wrong he said, "very good. Think I about got it here." Rolled up the window and went right back at it until I came back with a truck and a strap. Classic!

Man, he and my son were tight. My son wouldn't even talk about the loss for a year after he died. Very big empty hole for our family. But he left us with great lessons and memories.
 

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Some of you sound lucky, some sound no better than what I had...Mine was an alcoholic, and a mean fucker all through my younger years...He stopped drinking and was pretty decent for the last 23 years of his life, but too much had passed by then...

All of my fond memories are of my best friend's dad when I was young, and my first wife's dad as an adult...

I will say this...I have always envied my friends that have great dads...
 

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Long Live The King
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.....
He says he bought all the hardware for the car that way. At the cashiers' stand I could not even look the gal in the eyes. I bet he saved $500 over the life of the build by doing that. Part of me wants to go back to the Ace and pay up. Damn, I miss him doing shit like that.
That would be nice of you.

Our hobbies aren't anyone else's responsibility/burden. :)
 

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Long Live The King
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When I was 14 my dad brought the rock quarry my two brothers and I would work there on Saturdays and during the summer. We ran the water truck, fuel truck and worked around the truck shop. My dad got my two older brothers and me together (1978) and said " This is your safety lesson, pay attention: There is a lot of shit going on out here that can either hurt or kill you. Don't let either happen to you because your mother will be pissed off at me. If something does happen and I'll probably have to take you to the hospital, or explain to her how you got yourself killed. The best way to not get hurt, or get yourself killed, is don't walk around with your head up your ass. Pay attention to what you're doing and think ahead. Any questions ? "

By the time I was 15 I was loading the company trucks and customer trucks with a Cat 960, or the 980 loader.

When my older brother turned 16 he got a '69 Mach 1 with a 390 and top loader 4 speed. The 390 soon gave up, so my dad calls a friend of his who owned a wrecking yard and told him he needed FE for a Mustang. One of the shop guys goes down and picks up the "390". He gets back to the shop and we start looking at it and it ends up being a 428. We get it running on a make-shift engine stand and the thing has some issues. A couple of burned ex valves at the least. The second weekend we tear into it after work, and it's going to need a rebuild. My brother's a bit bummed. My dad let's him be upset about it for a bit and then says " Take the engine hoist over-there and get that engine out from under that tarp. You two ( my bother and me) can pull the intake off it, and get the timing cover off it and then figure out what cam you want to get for it, and you can use it, but don't you dare put a rod thru the block, I'll put my boot up your ass if you do"

That's the day my dad "Loaned" my brother the 427" MR side-oiler stroker motor ( 447" stock bore with a 428 crank) for his Mustang at not quite age 17. My dad had had it in his service truck for a few years. It had a hyd "RV" cam in it for trq. (First cam was a Crower flat tappet ,but ended up with a Crane soild flat tappet in it. .601 lift with 256* dur at .050.)

Safety lesson number two from our dad: " You two get to working on the brakes on that car, last I drove it they sucked. If you don't ugrade the brakes in that thing with that engine in it, and you kill yourself, your mom is going to be really pissed off at me"

He always had a way of saying that like he didn't give a shit one way or the other ;)

He's still going strong at 82 and he still hasn't got that 427 side-oiler back from "loan" ....... lol
 

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My dad passed 13 years ago. WW II veteran Purple Heart recipient. Was at Pearl Harbor and took a ricochet bullet from a Japanese Zero to the cheek. They brought him to the field hospital there and they said your going home young man. My father said like hell I am, patch me up I'm going to fight.
 

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My grand father (on my mothers side) lost his arm as a teenager in a car wreck in the 1930s
There is nothing that man couldnt do with one arm. He had a livestock farm and we would visit all the time. One day he was replacing the fence post along the property. he had a willis jeep cab truck thing. with a flat bed on the back. it had 2 transmissions in series end to end. he would put both transmissions in 1st gear and aim it along the fence row. it would just creep along. Had all the new fence posts loaded on the flatbed. and a long chain hooked to the hitch. He would walk ahead and wrap the chain around the old fence post. then walk over and grab a new post off the bed, throw it over his shoulder one handed . as the jeep slowly pulled out the old post.. he would throw /drop the new post in. unwrap the chain from the old post .. then walk forward and wrap it around the next post. and repeat.
when we got to the end of the line he would turn it around and let it run back down the row and he would pick up the old posts and put them in the bed.. the truck would just idle along bye his side.
many times i would be out in the pasture with him.. and he would aim the truck back toward the house. we would walk back to the house have lunch ... all the while the truck was driving itself headed back to the house.. I would often be worried and would ask him.. " say is it time yet ?" he would say nope.. then when the time was right he would say lets go.. and sure enough it would just be pulling up onto the black top..
The man was a fierce fisherman. He has caught and reeled in some huge fish with one arm.. often while retrieving lighting and smoking cigarettes... He used to keep them in his shirt pocket. Camel soft pack. he would flick/snap the bottom of the pack while it was still in his shirt.. 1 cigarette would pop up. he would lean over and grab it out with his mouth. then light it. Often he did this while driving his truck.. and it was a stick shift cab over.. with a suicide knob.. he would steer with/by shuflling his knee's on the wheel all while smoke a cigarette and shifting gears..
the man could thread and tie a fish hook with his one hand faster than i could with 2 hands.
he could roll a cigarette from sack tobaccos and a paper with his bare palm hand. again probably faster than you could with 2 hands. he would light a match while it was still connected to the pack. he would bend it behind snap light it.. and hold it up to his face.. blow it out.. so it would never fall lit on the floor.
i have soo many stories .. the best experiences in life i have are from him.. i could go on and on..
he was a huge harmonica player.. sometimes i can still hear him tapping his foot on the floor.
he grew jersey tomatos in his garden and there was always a salt grinder on the fence post covered in foil.. nothing like a vine ripe tomato on a hot day with salt on it..
 

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I have been working on the Tiger a lot and it has spurred some great memories of my dad. This one may be a bit “controversial”. I go between laughing and being embarrassed!

My dad was pretty far into his cancer fight and I was getting the car running after sitting for 10 years. I really wanted to take him for one last drive before he passed away. I took him with me on a run to the local hardware store for some fasteners I needed for the fan shroud. Keep in mind, all the visible fasteners on this car are either polished stainless or chrome. Luckily for us, the local Ace Hardware carried a great selection, and he bought most of them from that store as he was building the car. On this day, we walk in and I grab about 10 metric nuts, bolts, and washers from the chrome stuff. It was like $60 in parts. As I am writing the prices on the envelops, dad pushes his walker over to me and looks over my shoulder. He says “what the hell are you doing?” and I replied I was putting the part numbers and prices on the envelope. He says ”No no no”, grabs the envelope and heads over to the cheap-ass ¼ x 20 bin and writes those numbers and prices down! He says he bought all the hardware for the car that way. At the cashiers' stand I could not even look the gal in the eyes. I bet he saved $500 over the life of the build by doing that. Part of me wants to go back to the Ace and pay up. Damn, I miss him doing shit like that.
your dad stole shit
 

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I'm not looking for sympathy and I don't want to ruin this thread but I don't have any good memories of my dad. Him and my mother got divorced when I was 10 and that was the end of my upbringing as I knew it. My world was turned upside down but ya know what? I persevered! I made something of myself and my wife of 27+ years has been my rock. Without her, I may have ended up in an asylum. My daughters, who are 21-24 have lived a better childhood than I ever did so we've done our jobs and we love them with all of our hearts. My dad? I see him two or three times a year, as I'm the "Holiday Kid". We make small talk and that's about it. Don't do this to your children......
 

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Have a lot of stories I could tell about my Dad,like some or many of us I had a complicated relationship with my Father but at same time always been grateful my Father was around and not as terrible as many are to their kids.
 

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My story is this. I am 38 and have two baby boys. My dad gives me shit for driving my hot rod so much by lonesome (the boys have never even ridden in it). Same guy had a '59 vette and a '61 vette. The '61 was a pretty quick ride and he would street race folks with the top down while my brother and I were riding with him. I was always sitting on the hump in between the seats with no belt. I guess he realizes he was stupid for doing that shit back in the day... but come on man!!
 
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