Kids spilled rustoleum paint in the bedroom

Lesson learned at a young age that valve covers + krinkle paint + moms oven = Dads Saturdays meatloaf tasting funny.

 

Was painting Airfix HO scale soldiers and spilled a mix of Testors silver/blue on the brand new brown carpet in my room.

 

As we moved into the new base housing, we (the wife) decided to make the twins' room pretty, so we (the wife) decided to place plants in their room.
we (the wife) decided that they were old enough for them to not mess with them.
well as the photo shows below they were not old enough to not mess with them, and we (me) cleaned it up. lol
along with the paleontology find there was a bit of artwork, pinstriping as far as i can tell. monkey see monkey do.

poor us (me)

 

washed the entire EXTERIOR of my moms new car with amorall. lucked out though, didnt get into too much trouble

 

Hotrod1959, That's classic! ...if your Dad was anything like mine, bet your butt was about the same temp as those sparklers!

At about 13yrs I suppose, I was building models at the desk in my bedroom [I had been told not to paint them there] and was shaking one of the small bottles of Testors which I thought had the lid screwed down [NOT!]. Of course it had to be RED, ...ya wanna know how much paint there is in one of those little bottles? Enough to get on every bloody surface in the room, floor, ceiling, walls, windows, fixtures, & nearly every other item in there! The curtains & bedspread were already red, but that didn't make life any easier with the folks, ...stayed in the doghouse for quite a spell after that'n!

 

remember those salmon colored two toned paint jobs the factorys were found of doing way back when? I had just rebuilt my bicycle, and thought that the spokes would look good in black. So I leaned the bike up against the car (Merc), and proceeded to paint the spokes. I did a real good job, covered every spoke. Pretty pattern on the Merc's side, Dad wasn't amused.
Fast forward to 1st wife. Building a BSA chopper in the basement. About 10 below outside. She's at work. I get the Beezer to the start mode and figure 'why not'. After about twenty kicks it fires, flames shoot out the straight pipes and ignite the gas and oil on the floor. I roll the bike out of harms way, and realize that its all burning on cement, so I let it burn itself out. WRONG. It burns itself out, however the upstairs is full of smoke. I open all the windows, throw some fans next to them and start sucking the fumes out. Remember, it's 10 below outside. This is where I get trickey. I grab some pine scented rug stuff and pour it all over the carpet, and then vacuum it up. House clears of smoke, rugs are clean, smells pretty good. Shut everything up, and get the house heat back up to normal. Wife comes home about an hour later, steps through the front door, wrinkles her nose and asks, "Who burned the pine tree in here?"

 

Hers one for you.My dad had a 37 sedan when I was a kid. Of coarse it was black and freshly painted. My younger brother and I were about 12 and 8 yrs. old. We were always fighting about something as most young brothers do. I was standing in the shop and he was outside the roll up door. We had a gravel driveway at the time. He threw a rock at me and missed. The rock then hit a rattle can of silver paint. The can was on the work bench next to my dads 37 Ford, plus it was a full can. The rock punctured the can and it covered the front of the car, Both front fenders, hood, grill, and bumper. That was my first taste of polishing compound plus the beating of my life and I didnt even do it. Siblings sure can get you in trouble.

 

My loving older brothers took my dad's very bad rpu over the shit piles (we were dairy kids) with me in back in the bed. Bounced around, had a great time. Dad found us and laughed.....Mom found out......and was pissed. Dad got us an old dune duggy! Roll cage, 4 point belts, mom thought we were safe.


Now we tried to jump from one pile to another....


Good God we were evil kids.

 

My son did the exact same thing!!!!!!!!!!! Every one of my Craftsman screwdrivers!

Same kid was smart enough at the age of 16 to take my Camaro project for a joy ride when it was 85% complete, but only after taking photos of the position of the tires and fan to make sure when he returned it to it's place, dad wouldn't notice anything had moved.
"That" little story, although amusing to everyone else at the table was a little difficult for me to choke down at the Thanksgiving Day Dinner just a few years back.

 

The folks were gone and the fire needed wood, it's cold out so i brought the wood and ax into the livng room. I chopped several pieces and made as many slices in the carpet, it was a slab foundation, i don't need to tell you what happened. As the years passed and into the teens i would always look at the slice marks and think back, what an idiot.

I have twin friends who are a few years younger, and into vintage VW's. Their parents had an oval window family car for many years, one day when they were 7 or 8 the folks came home with a new 67 bug. When the folks went inside and they were alone they wipped the car bad with a garden hose with the metal end as they were mad, mom and dad traded in the old one. They put dozens of dents in it and it needed major repair work and repaint. Fast forward many years they inherited it, and is one of their prize possesions...go figure.

 

I shot out our color tv by accident with a bb gun. Never so scared in all my life.

edit: I was like 11 at the time.

 

When our twin grandsons were about 4, they got into their garage while mom was napping & found a gallon of red paint meant for the front door. They took the gallon to the back patio, managed to pry the lid off, dump the paint out on the concrete patio & spread it around w/ a broom & rollers. They painted the patio, themselves & the dog red! Funny now, not funny then.

 

Oh i would be deep in the ground 6' for that one

 

Not me cause well i was such a perfect kid but my wife thought she was a car detailer hahaha when she was 6 yrs old with paint brush in hands she thought her dads prize winning shelby gt500 she detailed the whole car with horse hair paint brushes, o the perfect shiney paint was all swirled and scratched.

 

Good stuff guys.
I owned a 51 Chevy two door that I stuffed a 57 Olds in to.
Dad and Mom also owned a 51 Chevy "Tin Woodie"
Well after my dad who was no hot rodder asked about my 51.
I bought it home from auto shop with the Olds in it.
My dad was running to the Tin Woodie and then back to my 51 all the time asking.
What did you do and why?
As an adult him and I would get a good laugh out of "What did you do?"
Boy do I miss my dad.
He has been gone now for just over five years.
My dad was a hard ass growing up and a softie as we kids got older.
Sitting here crying at my age of 74.
Thanks Guys

 

.....When I was 10 years old....I"d threw a snowball at a police car and hit a cop(his window was open)He ran 3 blocks,but never caught me...that night the cop show up at our house....My old man was sure mad......he reminded me of it for forty years......Sure miss my father...

 

All i have to say is New couch+hot pink lips stick= race track

THANKS SON,

 

I think I was about 5 years old hanging out with my dad and gramps on grandpas property. Guess I was in the way so gramps set me on the seat of the old Craftsman lawn tractor next to where they were working.

Well I wanted to show gramps I could drive the tractor all by myself, only he had the keys in his pocket and I knew he'd never give em to me, so I proceeded to tear apart the ignition switch in an attempt to start it. Well dad and gramps look over at me a few minutes later and I had the lock cylinder and tumblers all over the hood of the tractor as I was trying to work whats left of the switch with my finger.

Man I never had my ass whooped so hard before, and grandpa never could figure out how to put the thing back together so he built a panel with a push button and toggle that was still on the thing last time I saw it about 15 years later..

 

God I hate to admit this one...
I lost the heating element to my Lava Lamp. Figured I could just set the stove burner on simmer. Put a couple candles behind it and turned off the lights. It was working fine, but I let it keep going while I ran to the store. When I came back both had exploded!!! It took 5 hours to clean my entire kitchen ceiling to floor WITH my girlfriend. Wish I could say it was in my younger-dumber days, but this was actually just last year. DOH!!

 

Dad just finishes tune-up on our sweet 62 VW, black original car, then heads inside.

My 7 year old brain decides it needs the wheels and running boards shot Krylon gold to spiff it up.

Dad notes odd smell from the garage, comes outside to discover my handiwork, Turns 19 shades of red and purple, shaking, clenching and unclenching fists. Cannot speak for a bit then asks "why"

I told him I was working on the car, cause I wanted to be just like him.

Just waiting for the yelling and maybe a swift smack. Instead he smiles and says I did a pretty good job.

Had a great, never beat my ass but maybe shoud've on a number of occasions.

Miss him, tearing up.

Guys, treat your kids right, and they will treat theirs right. They're only yours for a while and then they're gone.

 

Aw man, those '56 Rancheros are very rare too!

 

My stepson was 14 when my wife and I married. After school one day he and a friend were at our house. My son wants to show his friend one of my shirts he was going to wear to the freshman dance. While looking in my closet he sees the straps of the shoulder holster my Colt 45 Comander is in and gets it down. He takes out the clip but there was a round in the chamber. He shot my water bed.

I was so mad, but by the time I got home I was scared to death. He was sitting on the bed with his legs crossed and shot between his legs. We were very lucky.

 

Its OK. Give your kids 30 or 40 years and they'll be posting here how they went to their prom in a traditional Hummer and Escalade.

 

Growing up our little hick town had a huge rival with the next town over of snobby kids and if any of those kids would come cruising on our turf without consent, we would run them out or beat their *$$. (Unless it was the girls of course!) At the time this took place, I was in high school, I was working for my grandfathers hot rod shop, and my parents were out of town for a couple of days. It was a hot summer night, my twin brother and I were sitting at an ice cream drive in parking lot with some buddies, when these two cars of out of town boys drove by flying us the bird. I had a pretty quick 5.0 mustang, my buddy had a big block short wide and my brother decided to "borrow" my stepmoms fairly new toyota celica GT for the night without my parents permission. We chased these kids down, deciding to give them an *$$ whoopin, I passed both the cars and stopped infront of them sideways in the road. My buddy pulled up next to them, and my brother right behind them. Just as I drug the driver of the first car out to give him a greeting, I heard the guy in the back car yelling sorry didn't mean it, just messing around. He had slammed his car in reverse and accidentally rammed the front of the stepmoms fairly new GT. Needless to say they got a warm welcoming after that to never come back, and I spent the next two nights fixing moms car. My brother and I never did tell, and not sure we ever plan too. That car is long gone, so no reason to bring it up now. Not sure what dad's reaction would be.

 

When I was around 10 years old, my Dad had one of those old crank and knob gas lawnmowers that used to give him fits. He would unfold that crank handle, turn it about 15 times, fold it up and turn the knob on the side to try and start it.

This would go on for at least 20-30 minutes every time he went to use it, usually resulting in him getting pissed and kicking the motor, pushing the handle down and letting the mower slam to the ground, banging it off a tree, etc, etc.

One particular time he fought this thing for about 45 minutes, really got mad and practically threw it into the garage without starting it, cursing under his breath the whole time.

A couple hours go by and Mom says "I thought you were going to mow the grass?" Dad replied with something unmentionable and stated that he was going to have to take it apart and clean it out good to get it to start.

Well, thinking this was a good opportunity to score a few 'Dad' points, the next day after school I proceeded to strip that mower down, taking apart every bolt and screw I could find. I had parts and pieces all over the garage. Not knowing any better, (Dad was not a motorhead) I got the garden hose out and sprayed down everything in sight. The gas tank, carbureteur, cylinder, everything.

Dad gets home from work, and after dinner wanders out into the side yard and sees the hose stretched into the garage. He finds the garage floor flooded and his beloved mower soaking wet. Everything that would hold fluid had water in it, including the carb.
Needless to say, I got whooped real good, once for the flood and again for ruining his mower.

Saturday comes around, and instead of my usual Little League game, he keeps me home as punishment, and stands over me like an overseer for about 3 hours and makes me put the mower back together.

Satisfied that it was done right, as best he knew anyway, we march out into the yard, filled the tank, put oil in the crank and I prayed for salvation.
He cranks the handle and turns the knob. False start. 2nd try-we get a little rumble like it wants to kick over. 3rd try it fires up and runs like new. Upon mowing the yard with a mower that weighed more than I did and him following me around like a drill sergeant pointing out every missed blade of grass, I then suffered through 2 hours of wiping and polishing to make it shine.

Then I got whooped again, on the pretense of "In case you start thinking of doing something stupid like that in the future".

It taught me to never touch his stuff again, but later on in years when he needed help with something, I'd always kid with him and say "What's the matter, your mower broke?" This would always get a laugh out of him.

 

i blew up my buddys toilet with a firecracker around 12 years old. good thing i didnt flush it.

 

I armoralled the seat and steering wheel in my ford truck and took a sharp corner and I slid across the seat to the passenger side!!! Luckily the truck dident hit nothin

 

I have two boys, so I outta forget all of the stupid S*#T I did as a youngster....

But here's one for you anyways.......

When I was about 10....out shooting BB guns with my buddies, I brag that my stepdad has a REAL GUN.

Luckily, we never found the gun. BUT.....we found AMMO!

Being the smart little turd that i was...I clamped one in a vise and beat on it with a hammer! Nothing happened.

Then we tried a pair of pliers and a screwdriver.....still nothin'.....

Defeated, I threw a few rounds in my pocket and we went back to the BB guns. A little while later we decided to drop one into the end of my buddies air rifle----he pumped it up and *poof* it shot out of the end shell and all...never found it.

Well, I COCKED a BB into the chamber of mine after pumping it. Dropped a round into the barrel...level it off at a woodpile, and.............BLAMMO** SUCCESS!
Pretty sure i dropped a load in my pants! We SCATTERED......... can't BELIEVE I survived childhood!!!!!!!!!!!!

There's a Million more where that came from.

 

Funny stuff.............

CRUISER

 

I was 19 and my younger brother turned 16 and bought this god-awful pickup truck, no motor, missing the bellhousing and clutch and a bed full of trash, all for $75. Needless to say, dad and mom were not pleased and even I questioned his sanity. Eventually he did get it together and it was a solid ride.

One night I came in late from work and see my dad's work shoes on the back stoop sitting on newspaper with the laces out and they're stuffed with paper towels. I go in and ask my mom, what's up?

It turns out that my brother had changed the oil in his truck and left the old oil in a dish pan next to the truck. Along comes my dad, its dark so he doesn't see it, steps right into the pan... gets his foot in it and the splash goes right up his leg and onto his shirt! Those items were soaking in a bucket of water and Lestoil.

My dad worked at Grumman and came home from work as clean as he left in the morning. My mom always had his khakis ironed and his work shoes polished and ready to go each morning. It was one of those times I was very glad that I was not my brother.

Bob