Folks Of Interest Old man

Remember my Dad sanding bearing inserts on a piece of glass to un-egg them and 'tighten'em up just a bit'. Reuse the head gasket-just paint both sides with aluminum paint. That 394 ran like a raped ape , never leaked a drop!

 

Thank you for the story, darn you for the tears. My dad was born on an Oklahoma homestead in 1913 and died in Canyon ,Texas in 1966. He could fix anything. I was 21 and have used things he taught me every day. I just didn't learn enough but when I get to Heaven...........

 

I do, with utmost respect....I'm incredibly fortunate I got to know my grandpa as I did, even though I didn't know it so clearly back then....when he passed, he didn't take anything out of this life within his 2 hands, but ...he sure left a wonderful legacy to me, and to share with those I can help along the way in my own little attempts at 'giving back' as it was instilled in me by his example....knowing my grandfather, I've got a tall mountain ahead of me still to reach his level....one step at a time!!!

 

Raiman my grandfather was my hero. He was born in Kentucky in 1899 and came to North Texas in a covered wagon in early 1900s. He taught me how to make a fishing hook from a finishing nail in a vise and how to "boot" a weather cracked and dry rotted tractor tire to get a few more seasons out of it. He taught me how to laugh at myself, and would ask me to come help him do things he was more than capable of doing himself as he got older just so we could spend time together. He was and "is" the most influential person in my life, even though he left us in 1981 while cutting a tree root out from under the sidewalk in his backyard with a 36" McCulloch chainsaw. I recently became a grandfather and can only hope to be half the man he was!

 

That's great, man! Congrat's on becoming a grandfather!...it's amazing how much a man can influence our lives isn't it?....some pretty great memories' are built on these endeavors we remember and continue to strive for....thanks for sharing your story!

 

Excellent story well written. Good job.

 

Well done.

 

My Grandpa Pep worked on the railroad and lived a block from Mansfield pond in Great Barrington Mass. In a tiny red brick house with a single car garage and the only entrance was the main door on a huge corner grassy lot.
I remember spending the summers there I must have been 6-7ish and he would take me into town for ice cream or go to the railroad station and I was amazed, the more I think about it he was my first recollection of cars that stuck in my mind and have never forgot,when we went someplace we would walk out the front door down the stairs and the walkway to the single garage door and he would open it and there was his 64 4 door nova he wasnt a car guy it was his only transportation but when he opened the passenger door I always smelled that musty old car smell that smells like love. Everytime we go back east I make it a point to visit his old little brick house and also his,my grandmas and moms grave and recall all the great time we had when I was a boy.
Basically that's my story and reading all yours made me google map his old house and remember with a tear in my eye. Thank you all for the memories
John

 

Thank you for posting your story.

 

Thanks guys!!!

 

You guys are so Blessed to have known your Grandfathers. Both of mine died before I was 9, didn't get to see them much.Father divorced when I was 12. You are so Blessed to have grown up with a manly figure in your lives. I relied on friends doing things and helping them. That being said I wouldn't change anything.

 

Thank you guys for reminding me of my humble childhood. Awesome read!

 

For fathers day.
Enjoy your day,dads and grandpas of the hamb,you are all of a kind¡

 

Thanks for bringing this back to the top.

 

x2, good stuff for sure.

 

reminded me of my grandpaw
I miss the stories of how he and grandmaw made it through the depression.
one was this
During he winter, grandmaw kept a bucket of water near the fire to warm it. Grandpaw kept the model Ts wooden coil box on the fire place mantel. He would pour the warm water in the T radiator (it was drained each night) then pour the rest over the engine. He would hook up the warm coils then hand crank.
This is how he made it to the coal mines during winter.
He and she raised 12 kids plus a couple they inherited due to deaths in the family.

My grandpaw didn't complain, he just over came. died the richest man that ever lived surrounded by dozens of grandkids, great and great great grandkids.

 

WOW I loved it.THANKS Bruce.

 

We battled on.
We fought.
We survived.
They were times of desperation and hopelessness but we kept them buried with work.
The only thing mom and dad knew was hard work,they could not teach me about the world.
There was no world to learn about,only sweat and family.

Dad began to take me to the shed,to teach me how to use his mismatched set of tools,how to take care of them,how to sharpen them.
"They take care of us,we have to take care of them" he used to say.

Any bolt,wire,nail or screw that was found, would get clean and stored in glass jars he kept in different makeshift shelfs.
They could bail you out of a problem sometimes.

Oh!,I can see my father sitting on that old stump brushing away dirt,grime,pain and his dreams from those old rusty bolts.
Smiling everytime he found a rare "ford" stamp on one of them then he would put it in the cleanest jar on that dirty old pine workbench next to grandpas oiler.
Just a few shiny bolts in there that he cherrished.

I can see him staring at that empty spot on the shed floor,focused on that oiled stained mound of dirt that would dissapeared once in a while.
Then turn around to clean one more bolt for the night.

What I would give to buy his dream jalopy and give it back to him as a gift for all his sacrifice and for the times he kept strong for all of us.

What I would give to see him drive that thing around faster and faster every time to catch the time he lost or to catch that kid he had to grow up out of to care for his family,
Or to drive fast to get away from the times he saw his family hungry and hopeless and there wasnt much he could do,Oh but he tried!
He tried to make it better.
He made me better.

They say when we lose loved ones,they watch us from above and they are with us in spirit.
Not my old man.
He's all around me,in the wind,in a falling leave,in the singing of a finch in the early morning,in the old oak tree that still guards that old leaning shed.

I still go in the shed to visit him.
I rediscover his tools time after time blowing away the thin silt that protects my best memories.
I run my hand on the old sweat stained hickory handles and feel his loving hand gripping mine.
His old tools are still waiting for him
Those old bolts are still waiting to be used,they are still strong but they were not strong enough to hold him here for me.

As I sit in his favorite stump,I can see my ol' man walking towards me,towards his shed,body aching,wind pushing him sideways or maybe it's his heart, so big that is hard to carry.

Walking slow,his feet are heavy or maybe he's giving time a chance to catch up to him like he did with me.
I see him forgiving the wind and the sun that sometimes were unforgiving.

My old man was larger than life.
He was life itself.
He is still is,life itself.
I often wondered why did he have to leave so soon and angrily shouted out to the sky but then I would think that God must've needed him up there for something big that needed fixin'.

I hope he's still wrenchin'
I hope he found a good ol stump to sit on and wait for me.

 

Great Tribute. Thanks.

 

I hope this will become a yearly tradition.

 

Happy Fathers day.
Dads and Grandpas of the hamb.

 

Great stories all! I really appreciate these as they remind me how far I've come being 1 of 8 kids and coming from a farming area. Making do with what you had, getting hand me downs, sometimes going without, getting inventive to make or build what you needed. I think too much of society has no clue about these things and as whole are the worse for it.

 

My dad died on the kitchen floor having breakfast with my sister, he was 53, may 18, 1983, a date I shall never forget, and I can tell you....I can't remember my kids birthdays. I had to help the coroners assistant get him out of the house, we rolled him onto a fridge dollie and wheeled him out the front door. I hope to see him again.
He was a Kamloops indian, he was my step dad from my age of three, he lived a hard life, his parents were killed in a car crash, him and his brother lived with his granny, the indian agent would come around to take him and his brother to a residential school, granny would send the two boys into the bush for five days till the agent was gone, happened continually, it shaped his life. Suffice to say....we never went camping, ever, he was my hero. My 69 olds 442 had a dual point distributor, when I'd fuck things up, he'd fix it, then steal the car with my mom and be gone till whenever they got back. He would "borrow" my harley davidson while I was at work, till he fell over one day and dented the tank, he never limped in front of me, but my mom told me his knee hurt for months. My "father" was a rat, a waste of skin, but my dad was my hero, he fixed everything but himself, needed a quad bypass, never told anyone and his heart killed him, he will live on forever in mine.
I am not a father, but been a dad to two kids for 40 years, they torment and torture me every chance they get, they tell me its payback for the torture I gave them and their friends in their youth, my oldest boy is also a stepdad, runs in the family. Happy fathers day guys.

 

My dad was and alcoholic with 4 small children who decided they weren’t gonna live the same terrible life he had lived. He took himself to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and changed his life and ours. I know it is supposed to be anonymous but he was proud of what he had overcome and in the 70s and 80s he would host meetings in the local community hall. I have fond memories of helping him set up tables ,chairs,coffee pots and ash trays before these meetings . He was the best dad ever he always thought of all us kids first and did without so that we could have whatever we needed. I learned later in life that he had a brutal alcoholic father that was very cruel to him. He was also and excellent mechanic who grew a little garage behind the house - into a service station he rented - into a large 4 bay garage he owned. At the garage his wife,all his sons,his grandson and his granddaughter worked alongside him and loved him. Sadly he passed in 2011. Thank you dad for giving us such a good life! And thank you to Alcoholics Anonymous for helping my dad.

 

Goes to show we fathers are just human and not saints. We try our best to make ends meet and keep our kids directed on a good path. Sometimes making mistakes along the way. But never giving up.
Happy Father’s Day everyone.

 

I can truly say my dad was the best man there was, not perfect but truly a good person, father and husband. Taught me everything I know about life, he passed too soon and not a day goes by that I don’t miss him. I strive to live up to being the man that he was but am ok with falling just a little short, tough shoes to fill. I just hope one day my kids think the same of me.


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Happy father's day...
You all been a sort of father figure to me...thanks