Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire What did you do to really Piss off Dad....

Not long after my mom died my dad was lonely and started running around with anything that would talk to him. He had a bit of money and soon he brought home this woman who was obviously bad news and announced he was going to marry her. I did a bit of digging and found out she was pretty much the con artist from hell. I told my dad and he said he was going to marry her anyway. I told him that he was an idiot and she would clean him out. He told me to get the hell out of his house and never come back so I did.

Before he died she had cleaned him out just like I told him she would.

The main one I remember is when my younger brother and I sharpened all his flat screwdrivers on a grindstone. You couldn't screw a screw into styrofoam with them when we finished! We thought Dad would be proud at what a great job we did!

Went mud running in his International Scout. I took it to the car wash and washed it good. Turns out I forgot to clean the engine compartment. He was not a happy camper when he looked under the hood. Luckily, he didn't kick m azz.

Ron

Got the old man's Ford buried so bad, it "leaked" mud every time it rained for 6 months.

The angriest I've ever seen my dad was when some of us little kids caught a snake and put it in bleach to see if it would turn white. I still feel like s h it about it.

Totaled my Mom's '79 T-Bird 4 hours after I passed my drivers license test. Let's just say I didn't drive again for another year.

He drove me by the accident site on the way to church every Sunday for a year also to remind me of my fugg up. I didn't do much right back then.

My mother wrapped my lunch in a road map my senior year.

As others have said.


Some days all it seemed to take was my existence. Or that of my siblings, because we didn't rat on each other so many times the whole tribe got punished.

I use to go to a neighboring farm and a get 5 gallon can of milk about once a week. We had a 52 Chevy station wagon which was our only car. Crossing a small bridge and a tight left turn,I shifted to 2nd, must have popped the clutch too fast and snapped an axle.

Dad had to go to work that night. He was on midnight to eight shift and told me I had to get it fixed by 11 PM. Missing work was not an option.
The neighbor had a small dump truck that he backed up to the Chevy and raised the bed. We chained the back of the Chevy to it and he dropped the bed enough to get the back end of the Chevy off the ground and towed it home about a half mile. This was when bumpers were real bumpers.

I didn't even have my license yet as I was 15, neighbor was 16. He took me down to a local junk yard and we pulled an axle out of another 52 Chevy and brought it home .Those old Chevys ,you had to pull the differential cover off and free the axle to pull it. I forget whether it was a bolt or pin. Then you needed a puller to pull the axle.We turned the brake hub around and used it, having enough play in the wheel studs to use it as a hammer puller.
This was in the winter, we had no garage and there was about 6 "of snow on the ground . How I saved the differential fluid and got it back in I don't know. I do remember cutting a new gasket out of some gasket paper for the cover.

Dad would come out every once in awhile to check progress and hurry me up. He never yelled at me, but told me he had best not be late for work. We lived from pay check to pay check and missing one day was very bad. I finished at about 10:30. I went in and told him the car was fixed. He got up, put his coat on and left. I think he was afraid to say anything and lose his temper as he never struck one of us kids. Later years,I realized how smart he was and how hard he worked to provide for us. I never popped a clutch again.

I was born with a very large noggin.

I understand that all too well.
Can't say I ever pissed my Dad off, but I sure said things that hurt him inside. Could read it in his eyes. And I regret it today.
It was my stupid comments that had to do with our family being dang near destitute my entire childhood.

No time to just sit and fish... or watch me play ball.
Thought he just did not want to be around me.

Not me, but my sister:
While Dad was asleep, she painted his toenails red.
Somehow he got dressed for work without noticing.
His co-workers, however, did notice, in the shower room at the end of his work shift at the Mobil oil refinery.
LOL!
He came home mad as a hornet, and proceeded to chase Sis around the house, cussing a blue streak...
... until the queen mother of charlie horses dropped him like a bad habit.
Double LOL!!

I was in the 6th grade when this kid wouldn’t give me my basketball back. So, I thought the best way to solve the problem was to beat the crap out of him. I ended up breaking his nose. The kid had more friends than me. After I was sent to detention, they all ratted me out for a bunch of other dumb stuff to our teacher, who hated me. One of those things was taking a pack of pencils. So, that night, when my dad got the call about me beating up the kid and taking the pencils, he was so angry his son was now a thief.

Talked

Spring of my Senior year in High School.

Mom and Dad finally figured out I had not sat for my "Senior Photo". I had decided school photos were a waste of money which the family could ill afford.

Oh. crap!

lololol

He would routinely send me into the tool room to find something. It drove him nuts when I couldn’t find whatever is was.

The ol boy has a real affection for his grass. Run over his grass and he will kick your ass. I even caught hell when my friends ran over the grass. Former girlfriend of mine ran over the grass when it had frost on it, which leaves marks for a few weeks or so. I really caught grief for that. I actually bucked up a bit on that instance. First and last time I did so.

You couldn’t have melted me and poured me onto my Dad!! Why? Because I respected him! Not only that but he’d have kicked my ass to a fair you well!

Same for my brother and me.

But in the ‘60’s