Mine was pretty simple, had pulled a motor and tranny out of a corvair spider and my pos brother in law started talking scrap to me. Dad wanted us to get it down an outside cellar way into his workshop. I was about 13 and the pos was about 28 and as we got down the first steps he started again. I shoved him and the motor and tranny down the steps. Walked away and started up the street. Was about a half a block away when my dad grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. Only remember stars and waking up with a broken nose and 2 black eyes.
