A Funny Story

WDH · April 18, 2015, 09:00:09 PM

Poetic justice.

JJ · April 18, 2015, 10:55:38 PM

Hi Jeff and TFF,

The cool cocker who is pictured below; was once an adolescent scoundrel who liked to chew up my daughters barbies.

I once had to help him with a rubber head with blue eyes and prefect California smile, looking out from Mount Butmore, but having golden hair tangled somehow inside. :-\

JJ

thurlow · April 19, 2015, 11:25:34 AM

One of my first cousins (we'll call him Ralph) is 3 months younger than me; his mom was my dad's sister. Ralph's dad was 'slooooooooooooooooooowwww'; not retarded, not stupid, just slow. Ralph takes after his dad (he once put his height on some form as "5 ft, 12 inches". His folks moved around a lot when Ralph was young, living in Coos Bay, OR, Chicago and other places. They came back 'home' when Ralph was about 10 and lived in this county for the rest of their lives. There were about 12 grammar schools in the county back then, but only 2 high schools. Ralph and I only went to school together for one year; the year I was a senior in HS; Ralph was in the 9th grade. Ralph has spent his whole adult life in law enforcement; for about 40 years, he's been on the po-leece force of a small town (about 2,000 population) in the north end of our county. The town has a force of 7 officers, chief, ass't chief, K-9 officer, investigator, patrol captain and 2 officers. After 40 years, Ralph has worked up to the position of ass't chief. They have 3 or 4 'marked' cars and one un-marked. Lots of people in the town have police scanners and that's where this story comes from......multiple people heard and shared it. One day a few years ago, there were 2 officers on duty; Ralph was driving the marked car and another officer was driving the unmarked one. Something happened requiring the police.........a shoplifting or burglary or something; the perpetrator was driving a black, late-model Ford car. Ralph raced over to investigate and before he got there, he met a black, late-model Ford car. He made a U-turn and followed it, but decided not to pull it over; just follow it and see where it went/what happened. He CONSTANTLY kept the dispatcher (and everyone with a scanner) updated. "I'm following the suspect north on College, proceeding about 30 mph. He's turning on North Main; we're passing the city park; suspect is obeying all traffic laws, don't think he's aware that I'm following him." This went on for 8 or 10 minutes and both cars had covered most of the streets in town. Ralph finally decided that he wasn't accomplishing anything and informed the dispatcher that, "I'm gonna light him up", i.e., pull him over. For all this time, Ralph's had been the only voice on the radio, but when Ralph decided to pull the suspect over, the other officer came on the radio, saying in an almost inaudible voice, "Ralph, Ralph, it's me". This confused Ralph and he responded, "Do what"? The other officer responded again, "It's me". About this time the suspect car stopped in front of Ralph, the door opened and....................the other on-duty officer got out of the car. Ralph had been following the town's un-marked police car for almost 10 minutes; Ralph takes after his "slow" dad................

PC-Urban-Sawyer · April 19, 2015, 01:30:03 PM

Quote from: thurlow on April 19, 2015, 11:25:34 AM
... Ralph takes after his "slow" dad................

but can't ever catch him... :D :D :D :D :D :D

Herb

kwendt · April 19, 2015, 04:24:54 PM

Oh my gosh, so funny, thurlow!

Magicman · April 19, 2015, 05:01:30 PM

Now that was funny, at least to everyone except Ralph. :D

Glenn · April 19, 2015, 08:11:14 PM

Hand patted? I thought I heard those Navy cooks just smacked the pinch of dough up under the armpit to flatten and pitched them out into the pan...all in one smooth motion.
Maybe I heard that wrong, or it was just a joke... ;D

When I was eighteen I was working as a forest tech and staying in a lumber camp in Odenback in Algonquin Park. One day i walked in and the big cook was wearing a muscle shirt and was making hamburger patties using the armpit method. I ran out and told one of my new coworkers. He told me "You should see how he puts the holes in the dougnuts !!!!"

lumberjack48 · April 20, 2015, 06:46:49 PM

I stopped at the pub after work, the bartender and a few other guys were asking me how my day went. I started shaking my head and said that it wasn't a good day. They asked what happened, [ i said ], i ran over my partner two times today [ they said ] my god didn't he learn the first time [ I said ] NO, NO guys, i'm taking about my chainsaw.

thurlow · April 28, 2015, 12:20:58 PM

Another "Ralph" TRUE story: Ralph was born in November, 1944. His parents lived in a 3-room 'shotgun' house on a dirt road, across the road from his mother's parents. It was about 2 miles to a graveled road and another mile or so to the country store and the grammar school around which the community was based; it was about 4 or 5 miles from the community to 'town'. Their road was dirt, but the road to the store (and maybe beyond) was graveled. Ralph's mother went into labor and her dad (my granddad) walked up to the store, where there was a telephone. He called her doctor, but when the doctor asked about the condition of their road (it was extremely muddy), he said he wouldn't come. Grand-dad then called another doctor, who said he would come to the store if someone would pick him up in a wagon. My granddad walked back home, hitched a team of mules to the wagon and went back to the store; the doctor showed up, put on a HEAVY coat and got into the wagon. He had a bottle in a pocket of the coat and took numerous pulls on it on the way to the house. The doctor ran the men out of the house, had the kitchen table moved into the bedroom (for a delivery table) and told the women to start boiling water. The unmarried, teenaged sister of the woman in labor carried me (I was about 3 months old) across the road to my grandparents house. The other women (my grandmother, my mother......and maybe another woman) stayed in the house to 'help' as needed. The men all camped out on the front porch, except the soon-to-be father..............who was out in the front yard doing some serious throwing up............probably out of fear and from hearing the sounds from inside (they didn't do epidurals when making house calls.......or maybe in the horspitals, either). The baby was soon delivered, the doctor was carried back to his car at the store and we all lived happily ever after.

Justify008 · May 28, 2015, 07:54:54 PM

It took me a few days at work to read through this whole thing from page 1 there are some really funny stories. I figure its my turn to share one. Ill try and keep it short but get all the details in. This happened while I was at work as a diesel locomotive mechanic we had a locomotive come in with a blown turbo, detonated is a better word something locked up shattered the housing took all the teeth off the cam gear it was a mess. It was me and another mechanic started taking it apart when this electrician walked up he was not mechanically knowledgeable at all surveyed the damage and asked how could that of happened. Well somebody may have jokingly made a comment that it blew apart at 18k rpm after being filled with gasoline instead of diesel by these non union guys that run around with tanker trucks filling out locomotives. Well after some convincing he walked off and for the rest of the night we were visited by everyone in the shop around 100+ guys that wanted to see the locomotive that was filled with gasoline. We thought it was funny how the rumor spread and how everyone believed it that is until the floor supervisors showed up. They didnt hear about it going around the shop they were asked about it by the top shop manager who somehow heard about it mind you this was late at night and im sure he was home tucked in bed. So me and the other mechanic just looked at each other and silently got our story straight with a nod and said I dont know but thats the rumor we heard were just pulling the turbo. Well the manager needed proof so he asked us to pull a fuel filter and see if it smelled like gas so we pulled it and he smelled it we thought the joke was all over then until he took a second whiff and said that absolutely smells like gas I need a sample right now to send to the lab. That was the talk of the shop for a few weeks everyone had to see it haha

Ljohnsaw · April 19, 2018, 10:49:01 AM

Time to revive this tread again after nearly 3 years! It was referenced in a recent post. I had not seen this before and I spent probably 6 or 8 hours reading it through! What great stories. At first, I thought I had nothing to add. This tread started off on one track but later split many way and jogged quite a few memories, so here goes:

I'm the youngest of 7 kids, 9 year span between me and my oldest sister.

Money was tight but I was oblivious during my childhood. One of my earliest memories is getting a tool kit when I was probably 6 or 7. One of those wooden boxes that had blue painted tool that included a hammer, a flat screwdriver (I don't think Philips-head screws had been invented yet...), a coping saw, a tiny cross cut saw, a little pressed metal square, a ruler and I think some pliers. There were more tools but I just don't remember. They all had a spot in the box. I had a red wagon that I like to haul things with. I would stand up my open tool box in the wagon but it would rattle around and fall over as I hauled it around the yard looking for things to "fix".

I was allowed to use my dad's hand tools but not the power ones without his explicit permission - but that didn't slow down my construction. Since I was little, I couldn't use the big cross cut saw - not enough strength to cut. So I would use the hacksaw - took a while but I would get there.

So, the task at hand - make a rack to fit my wagon to hang all my tools on so I could travel and work! I found some boards stashed in the corner of the garage and set to work cutting them to length - not easy measuring with a 8 or 10" ruler! I got a couple boards cross cut but it wasn't easy with a hacksaw on a 12" wide board - the frame would get in the way - so I would have to cut at an odd angle from both edges. I was about eye level with my dad's big red Craftsman metal vise. I was persistent and got a couple cut. Not the straightest cut in the world, either.

My brother (2½ years older) had a slightly older and much bigger friend (Jim, IIRC). They came by and saw what I was doing. Jim got my dad's big cross cut saw and proceeded to make the remaining 3 or 4 cuts for me in less time then it took me to make one.

I found some nails and proceeded to make a open-ended 4-sided box the length of my wagon that would fit down inside. I do recall that the bottom board fit the length but the side and top were a bit shorter - either by mistake or the length of the boards available. I pounded nails (a lot) all over it to hang my tool collection. I may have even hung my dad's big saw on one side. I had another tool box and it slid inside - pretty cool I thought. I could run around the yard making sharp turns and everything stayed in place.

I vaguely remember my dad seeing my construction and commenting that it was nice. It wasn't until MANY years later I learned how mad he was. I had cut up some clear pine 1x12 that he spent some good money on to make some book shelves! I don't ever remember the shelves being built

Ljohnsaw · April 19, 2018, 11:27:25 AM

Maybe this will start a new sub-thread/topic inside this one. I don't remember reading anything about stupid new driver things.

I was in my senior year of high school before I was driving. I had taken the Driver's Ed class in school in the fall. We were out driving in the winter weather, snow had been on the ground for a while. Out early one morning, I was driving (teacher next to me, two or three other students in the back seat) down a slight hill toward a traffic light that was red. There was snow on the road. Since it was an early storm, the snow had melted and refroze overnight. As I neared the light, we immediately went into a skid and started to fishtail. I just counter steered and stopped at the light. I looked at the teacher who was grabbing the dash, pale and wide-eyed. He recovered his composure and said "good job". I thought that was fun, sliding on the ice.

The next year I started at a Junior College, I got an old 1967 Oldsmobile Delmont 88 with a 425 cu-in engine (but only a 2 barrel carb). What a tank. There was a huge landfill (dump) out on a peninsula in the Hudson River (NY). They took sand from one area and used it for cover on the dump. They had excavated probably 100' down (was a huge plateau) so that it was a couple feet lower then the access road. In the early fall, I would go out and go crazy doing donuts in the sand. Lucky I suppose I never rolled it. We had a phenomenal winter. Lots of snow and cold. This winter, the snow had melted and refroze into a 10+ acre ice sheet. I went out a couple times on it with my car and had a blast slipping and sliding all around.

Since I was older and driving, I would ferry my friends around. During Easter break, I took 4 or 5 friends (huge back seat) out to a local big, shallow, lake for ice skating several times. We had a cold spell before the break (-10 high for a couple weeks) so it was fantastic. Some guys were ice fishing and the ice was close to 2 feet thick. During the week, it was warm so ice skating was pleasant. At the end of the week on the way home I suggested we have some fun on the ice by the dump with my car.

So we drive over and I go down a slight incline to the ice with my car. Since it had been warm, the ice was rotten. My front tires punctured the ice into a foot of water and the bumper crashed down on the ice. I had visions of my car sinking! Since it was all sand there, I had no traction to back out, no matter how I piled the other kids on the trunk lid or had them try to lift the front. It was getting late and cell phones had not been invented yet. I ran down about a 1/2 mile or so to a pay phone. I called a garage for a tow truck. They came and pulled me out. I didn't have any money on me (no debit cards either - weren't invented yet) so he took my license as collateral.

I do remember one parent showing up and taking a couple kids home. I drove the rest of my friends home and no one said a thing. My parents never new what had happened. I just parked my car in the carport (slight up grade).

The next morning, I go to start my car and I just hear a clunk from the starter. Not the click-click-click of a dead battery. The sound of something stopping the starter from turning over. I reached under with a hammer and hit it a few times. It must have gotten some water in it that was trapped because of the angle and froze up a little. It started right up after the percussive maintenance. ;)

I drove down to the bank to get some cash and then to the gas station to retrieve my license.

Ljohnsaw · April 19, 2018, 11:33:22 AM

OK one more but a short one.

Since I was the youngest, I was at home last and by myself with my parents. I remember we would have a BBQ on our front deck all the time in the summer. I think we were having hot dogs (I would eat 6 in a sitting at that time). Anyhow, the three of us are chowing down and my dad gets some ketchup or something smeared on his lips. He looks around and says darn, I need a napkin. I grab mine and hold it out to him and say "I only used it once", half joking. He goes to reach for it and stops and laughs.

From that point on, it was sort of an inside joke that fit many situations - "I only used it once!".

WV Sawmiller · April 24, 2018, 07:53:07 PM

I don't know about the rest of you but I figured I'd pass along a typical family phone call:

My Dysfunctional Family

Not sure if the rest of you have families like mine but I often claim I am adopted because I know I don't fit in with many of the others.

Since the passing of my older brother a couple of years ago I try to be a little more diligent about keeping up with the rest of the family, especially Mom who is in her late 80's. Lest anyone pass it to her and somehow hurt her feelings I will not record a typical conversation with her although they can be very interesting at times. She keeps me up to date on how she is doing and about local events and many people I never knew about but she sometimes forgets to mention things I might really be interested in hearing about.

I still find it is sometimes a couple of months between conversations with my younger brother. They can also be challenging. A typical recent conversation went something like this.

I called and we talked about the kids and grandkids a few minutes then one of us mentioned Cousin Edward. Here is the gist of the results.

Me: "How is Cousin Edward anyway? I haven't thought about him for a long time and I don't think I have seen him in 3-4 years."

Brother: "He seems to be doing okay. He looked good at Uncle Joe's funeral last month."

Me: "When was Uncle Joe's funeral?"

Brother: "It was either 3 or 4 days after he died. No, it was 3 days because the 4^th day was when they had the big Coon-On-The –Log down at the big gravel lake and everybody wanted to be free to go to it so they rushed up the funeral and didn't even wait on Aunt Edna to get back from her cruise."

Me: "I didn't hear anything about Uncle Joe dying and did not know they still allowed Coon-On-The –Log trials."

Brother: "We were wondering why you didn't show up. They wanted you to be a pall bearer as you were one of the few we still figured who was healthy enough to carry him all the way to the back side of the cemetery. Several people asked about you at the Gravel Lakes too"

Me: "Were there a lot of people there?"

Brother: "Oh yeah. The place was packed. You could hardly find a place to park. One guy from Arkansas even came with a big old Redbone hound that looked a lot like Old Red that Grandpa used to deer hunt with. There were several people from Tennessee and Mississippi who brought their hounds down. You could see they were real proud of their dogs and took them everywhere with them."

Me: "I was talking about at the funeral."

Brother: "No, you know the funeral home over at Jay won't allow dogs in the building. They said they think it disrupts the service and they are they are afraid they will get fleas in the carpet and you know how hard they are to get rid of. Aunt Eva sneaked her Schnauzer in to Aunt Betty's funeral and he got loose and hiked his leg on the urns for the remains of the guy whose family was waiting in the other chamber. You know, if they did allow pets Uncle Joe's old bluetick hound, Gypsy, would have been right up on the front seat for the service and would have been riding with him in the hearse. "

Me (Getting frustrated): "No, I meant at Uncle Joe's funeral."

Brother (Unconcerned): "Oh yeah. There were quite a few at the service and several went to the graveside. Cousin Ruth (Uncle Joe's oldest daughter) gave the eulogy but she was late getting there because they did not have the paperwork ready at the U-Haul place and she was afraid Ed Earl and Buford (her brothers) would get to Uncle Joe's house first and get any of the good stuff before she got there. Now if you wanted to see a crowd you should have seen them at the reception center of the Baptist Church for the meal after the service. You know how big a crowd that always draws."

Me (Resignedly): "Okay. How is Aunt Edna?"

Brother: "She's doing pretty well considering everything. She was upset when Uncle Joe didn't meet her at the port when her cruise was done. If he hadn't died I think she'd have divorced him and she is not talking to Ruth ever since she got home and found the furniture was gone. If you ask me, I think Ed Earl and Buford probably got more than Ruth did but you know Aunt Edna was always more partial to the boys than her daughter."

Me: "Okay. I give up. I have to go. I'll call you later." Click.

My wife has been listening to the one-sided conversation and when I hang up she asks me "Bad news?"

Me: "Yeah, they had a Coon-On-The –Log back in March and nobody called me to let me know."