My mum and dad
...have been my best friends since I was born.

Some of the things my dad has done over the years would have him arrested for child cruelty these days.

For example:

Driving back from a(nother) pub in the late 70's, we came across an abandoned Puch Maxi 50cc. So, in the boot it went. My dad fixed it, made it run again, welded the pedals shut and gave me my first 'motorbike'. I was 8 years old.
This being the days of Evel Knievel, a couple of friends and I soon rigged up a 'ramp'. My dad came out, saw it and said "No, no no. That's no bloody good, you'll get hurt." And so, our 1 maybe 1.5 foot ramp became a ramp about 5 foot high. We got a run up down the street, through the alley and into the back garden where the ramp was. Up the ramp at full speed (around 28 mpg) and........bang, flop. There I was, winded and unable to speak with a Puch Maxi revving it's bollocks off on the floor. My dad says, "See. Much better".
Then of course, that following winter I NEEDED a sledge, snow had fallen overnight and taken everyone by surprise. Many kids were sliding down the hill in the village in black bin sacks, but I, and my dad, knew that they were mere amateurs.
My dad, having dabbled in the car 'industry' had a fair few cars laying around. Well, I say dabbled. That's not strictly true. At one point we had 11 cars outside our house, three on the drive, one in the back garden, and about 28 more at a little workshop he used to hire. The one in the back garden was a Ford Granada - the same model from The Professionals. Anyway, it wasn't doing much, so my old man took to it with a grinder and modeled a make-shift sledge from the boot lid. Looked the part, was nice and shiny, strong, fast and SHARP.
My sister and I got on it as he tied it to the back of his Triumph Stag, although it baffles me to this day why you'd take such a car out in the snow, and dragged us around the streets. That was until the pub opened and then he unhooked it and left us to our own devices.
We took it to the hill in the village and my sister and I took turns going down the hill. To be fair, it was MUCH faster than the kids with their bin sacks.
Then, I spied a new, fresh part of the hill that had been left intact. It was much, much steeper than the part of the hill that we were all using.
We took the sledge to the top, then argued over who should go down the hill - from the top it looked quite daunting.
I took the plunge. I shot down the hill like a bat out of hell...that is until I hit a rock covered by snow.
Now, I mentioned it was sharp right?
The sledge tipped on it's side, cut through my trousers and pants (probably yellow y-fronts with a purple Y), and...then through the end of my cock.
A little old lady happened past and saw an 8 year old boy holding his bloodied cock in his hand crying will a load of kids standing round in awe and came over. to cut a long story short, she took me home to be 'attended to'.
There were many inventions and toys that my dad fashioned out of bits and pieces that would probably have him locked up these days.
Not least of which would be the Raleigh Striker with a 75cc lawn-mower engine, or the canoe made from an old boat (we went out so far we could actually see the lights in France - it was dark when we got there, and we arrived back in England only 11 miles from where we'd set of - we were 13).
He also taught us how to 'rally drive' as he put it. Many times we would visit the golf course car park - which was gravel and about 2 miles long - and we would 'rally'. Sometimes to the point of the car not making it out alive.
Mind you, all the driving antics (he would let my sister and I drive pretty much anywhere) paid off. I passed my test 11 days after my 17th birthday, and my sister about two weeks after hers.
(dchurch bah, Tue 30 Nov 2010, 11:16, Reply)