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True funny/ weird stories that actually happened

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    True funny/ weird stories that actually happened

    Hi y’all. I’d like to start this post with your stories of things that actually happened to you. Funny, weird, outrageous or whatever. Family related stories, random encounters, childhood transgressions, stupid cooking mistakes or whatever. As long as it makes for TRUE and amusing entertainment. We could all use some right now. I’d like to reserve a big spot for Bogy. .......... Rock n Roll.
    Last edited by Panhead John; August 15, 2020, 04:28 AM.

    #2
    No story just titles to chapters:

    1. Shot my dad's truck with a 30-30
    2. Snuck a Fifth of Crown (the big bottle with the handle) into the Cajun Dome in Lafayette, LA @ 12 years of age
    3. Did a Pete Rose on a gravel road escaping a dog (2" x 1/2" scar still proves it)
    4. Ran over a sheep (the last ram we had) with a plow/disc.(plow was up, sheep stayed down)

    Comment


    • zzdocxx
      zzdocxx commented
      Editing a comment
      Good heavens.

    • Panhead John
      Panhead John commented
      Editing a comment
      Jerod Broussard For a day and a half now, we’ve all been wondering about the story behind your vehicular wounding. And #4 would be a close second in revealing details as well. I promise not to tell anyone. 😉
      Last edited by Panhead John; August 31, 2020, 03:23 PM.

    • Craigar
      Craigar commented
      Editing a comment
      Actually, I need some hints on #2 just in case I find myself going to the Cajun Dome.

    #3
    NEDERLAND TX. Population 19,000 or so. Late 70’s. Lax drinking laws back then.


    For some reason, my dad decides to buy a used 60’s model orange Hearse he sees for sale at a used car lot, for $500. I’m in my late teens. Drinking age was 18 then in Texas. This thing had a 2 button horn system that sounded a little like the sirens in England and Europe.

    One day I hatched a plan for a fun filled afternoon with some of my buddies. Only one back seat and the rest was flat, all the way back to the rear. 11 of us, several under age, pile into the Orange Hearse with a styrofoam cooler full of cheap beer. What could possibly go wrong? With yours truly, the budding nuclear physicist at the wheel, we all take off for a joy filled afternoon of drinking and riding around inconspicuously in an orange Hearse.

    I yelled at my friends, as we’re cruising down a local highway, Hey, Watch This! I pull in behind a car, flashing my headlights on and off, while hitting the horn which sounded a little like a European police siren. The car immediately pulls over on the shoulder. We’re all laughing our ass off. Hey that was fun! Let’s keep doing it! So for the next 15 minutes I’m pulling up behind cars flashing my headlights on and off, cheap sounding siren just a blazin. They all pull over. Ha ha ha ha. It was so funny, all these knuckle heads pulling over for us!

    Well.......all of a sudden, some guy with his own lights and siren pulls up behind me! It was one of Nederland, Texas’ finest! I pull over into a nearby gas station and get out, license already in hand. He grabs it from me and starts reading me the riot act. “John I’ll have you know we’ve had 10 fricking (not his actual word used) calls about a RED hearse driving around and pulling people over!!!” Thinking I’d be a funny smartass I said, “Officer it wasn’t me! This one’s orange!” Well, suffice it to say he wasn’t amused. He yells at me, almost spitting angry, “ I know for a fact half those guys with you are underage and I could haul you in for contributing to the delinquency of a minor, drinking and driving, among other things!” Well, about then, 3 of my 14 brain cells kicked into high gear. I’m sorry officer, I promise you it’ll never happen again. After a few more choice words from him about my stupidity, he says “You better take that thing home right now and park it, or I’ll haul your ass in” Yes sir officer, I will!

    He let me go and I did go straight home. My dad caught wind of the story and that was the last time I ever drove it. True story.
    Last edited by Panhead John; July 16, 2021, 05:29 PM.

    Comment


    • zzdocxx
      zzdocxx commented
      Editing a comment
      Wow !

    • synodog
      synodog commented
      Editing a comment
      I’ve. Got. Nothing. 😂

      Doesn’t involve me other than seeing it on the news, but a genius here in the valley of the sun had his own lights and siren pulling people over a few years ago ended up pulling over an unmarked city police car. Needless to say he didn’t get to go home...

    • Panhead John
      Panhead John commented
      Editing a comment
      I don’t know why the cops get so bent out of shape about that. It’s getting to where you can’t do nuttin these days.

    #4
    I don't think this is going to be quite as shocking as Panhead John is hoping for, but his ambulance story reminded me of it.

    It was 1970 and my family was weeks away from a move from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to southern California. My dad, also a pastor, had arranged to preach on last time at the church in Corsica, SD that he had served for six years, and where I had gone to school for the first three grades. Corsica's population was 600 then, and 600 now. The only paved street in town until recently was Main Street. Everything else was gravel. Corsica and Sioux Falls were 100 miles apart, and I still saw my best friend fairly often after 7 years. After the evening church service we went cruising in his car, with other friends and relatives of his (small town, I was about the only one not related somehow). We were all about 16/17. One of his cousins had a bag full of crab apples, and we started lobbing them at other cruisers. They found crab apples and started lobbing them back. Then, I had a brilliant idea. We went back to my friend's house, where all the parents were visiting. I got permission to take our car, a brand new Ford LTD Country Squire Station Wagon my dad had bought while he could still buy from dealers he knew in Iowa who gave preachers really good deals. Six of us loaded into the wagon, me driving, my friend in the shotgun position, 2 others in the back seat at each window, and 2 move in the rear facing third row seat, with the back window down, in the tail gunner position. Worked great, cars coming up behind us were pelted with apples, anyone trying to come alongside us the same. Through vacant lots, alleys, and all those gravel roads, with one or two swings down the highway at 70+ still throwing apples.

    Now, I knew we still had to get home that night, so I was keeping a close eye on the gas gauge. I figured that we would need as much gas to get home as it took to get there. I was 16, I didn't know gas gauges don't read evenly all the way down.

    When I figured we were at that point where we could still get home, I told the guys it was time to wrap it up, and we went back to my friend's. When my folks were ready to go, and we went outside, my dad's first reaction to his dusty, mud-splattered (those vacant lots), apple stained car was, "What have you been doing with my car?" "Well, gee dad, you know, the roads are really dusty, and there were some guys throwing apples, not us of course!"

    Then we got in the car, and my dad checked the gas gauge. That's when I learned about how gas gauges work (or don't). That 390 ci 4 bbl probably got 12 mpg (but it did have great pickup outrunning other apple throwers!). And the way I had been driving, it probably was getting 6 mpg. Late on a Sunday night, rural South Dakota in 1970, and a 100 miles to go. I did a lot of praying that night that we'd get really good mileage, and we coasted in the driveway on fumes. I was out washing the car nice and early in the morning, before dad had a chance to get a good look at it in the daylight.

    Sorry, no drinking or sex, but it's Panhead John's fault for reminding me of this!

    Comment


    • Panhead John
      Panhead John commented
      Editing a comment
      Yeah Bogy Blame me! It’s not my fault you’re a hooligan! 😉 Great story and story telling. 👍🏻
      Last edited by Panhead John; August 15, 2020, 01:43 PM.

    • zzdocxx
      zzdocxx commented
      Editing a comment
      I can't believe they still let you into seminary . . .

      Last edited by zzdocxx; August 16, 2020, 03:18 AM.

    • Bogy
      Bogy commented
      Editing a comment
      zzdocxx, it was a close call, and getting ordained was a whole other issue!

    #5
    Not too weird, but something I remember:

    ---Way back, when Elton John was touring a filling HUGE stadiums a friend and I got tickets to see him in San Diego. We lived 100 miles away. Did I mention the ticket included a charter bus ride there and back, the tickets, AND free lunch at Hector's Tacos, which happened to be next door to the ticket seller.

    So, off we go. Didn't have lunch, we had just eaten. Piled on bus, ride there was good. Tickets: in back of the stage (Booo--) . BUT we a direct line of sight with Elton John facing us when he was playing piano, YES! Concert: Excellent, Elton in great form, played well over 2 hours, and I seem to remember 3 hours.

    Hustle out after the concert, pile back on the bus only to experience a giant traffic jam to get out of the parking lot. Of course, no one would let the bus out of the lot or onto the street. Bus driver creeps and keeps creeping out, like who is gonna hit a bus, right? THEN our bus driver clips a car; we passengers felt it, but just a small bump (we were going 'bout 5 mph). Bus and clipped car stop. We all start yelling, or rather strongly encouraging our driver to take off, don't stop, who cares if you put a little ding on the car--I mean sheesh, it was 11:00pm, and we would be lucky to get home by 2:00am!!! (some of us had to go to work the next day.)

    Suitably encouraged, our bus driver took off, turning hard to get around the clipped car, jamming out into very heavy traffic. We traveled home in great time. Did not hit anything else. We never heard if the bus driver every caught trouble for the clip or not.

    Good ticket package, great concert, EXCELLENT bus driver. . . And all to the tune of $35. As I said, it was way back, WAY back. . .

    Comment


    • Bogy
      Bogy commented
      Editing a comment
      Panhead John, I get to talk about hell all the time, it's in my job description. Bad boy? Me, no idea what you're talking about. You just wish you could be like me, get on a plane, have the person in the seat next to you ask what you do for a living, and then have them leave you alone for the rest of the flight.

    • zzdocxx
      zzdocxx commented
      Editing a comment
      Yeeks.

      Good times.

    • Foehn Watts
      Foehn Watts commented
      Editing a comment
      Panhead John: yes, therapy it is, laugh therapy. Makes me cough up all the smoke/smog from the local forest fires and Los Angeles. Gets my brain off the latest news. Makes me feel better!

      I don't need any of the therapy here, but I want it!

      And Bogy: Just keep on telling them what you do/are then tell them some jokes! They will either chat you up or run screaming!

    #6
    Can’t say. Not sure the statute of limitations has run.

    Comment


    • Foehn Watts
      Foehn Watts commented
      Editing a comment
      C'mon, cough it up! Change the names to protect the innocent. . .

    #7
    This took place 20 years ago. My dad, also a pastor, had died just a few months prior to this. For several years my folks had hosted the family, which was my sister and her husband, their two kids, my other sister and various boyfriends, and my family, at a resort at a lake in Iowa (near where we now have our eventual retirement home). In my denomination we don't have a bishop who places pastors, the denomination acts more like a dating service, putting together prospective matches between pastors and congregations, who then negotiate a deal, with the denomination's guidelines. I was in that process, and had visited a church on the way to the lake and met with their search committee. I had left them the number for the resort if they needed to contact me.

    So a few days later the phone rings, and my youngest sister answers it. The person asks if they can speak with Rev. Boogerd. My sister says, "I'm sorry, but he died."
    There's a shocked silence on the other end of the line, and then the chair of the search committee says, "But, but, I talked with him just a few days ago!"
    Light starts to dawn in my sister's brain, and from hearing her end of the conversation, I say, "I think that might be for me."
    Yeah, never occurred to my sister that I was also Rev. Boogerd! The news of my death was greatly exaggerated.

    Comment


    • Panhead John
      Panhead John commented
      Editing a comment
      ComfortablyNumb Tactful? What’s that?

    • Foehn Watts
      Foehn Watts commented
      Editing a comment
      BOGY--you shoulda grabbed the phone from your sister and yelled into it, "---BUT I"M BAAAA-AACK!"

    • Bogy
      Bogy commented
      Editing a comment
      Foehn Watts, I was trying to get the job, I didn't want to kill the chair of the search committee!

    #8
    Every story I can think of starts with, “Well, I was trippin’ balls...”

    Comment


    • Mosca
      Mosca commented
      Editing a comment
      You know, I’d love to. But the ones I remember are all really quite illegal. Strange, considering what a straight arrow I am now.

      A couple years back I got a phone call from a couple old friends, people I knew from different social circles who had coincidentally met, and were talking about crazy people they knew when they were younger. They found my number and called me, wanted to see if it was really me; they figured I’d be dead by then.

    • Bogy
      Bogy commented
      Editing a comment
      Mosca, one of my best friends (not the one in the apple story) and I said we'd probably both be dead by before we hit 20 in car accidents. He didn't see his 17th birthday. My wife (girlfriend at the time) breathed a big sigh of relief when I turned 21.

    • Panhead John
      Panhead John commented
      Editing a comment
      If I’d a known I was gonna live this long, I’d have taken better care of myself.

    #9
    I almost burned down the house twice. Once trying to make tacos with hot oil way past it’s ignition point (stupid kids). The other playing with matches in the backyard to try and see how dry the yellow grass really is. It was summer in AZ.
    Btw, the grass was really dry. 🔥

    Comment


    • Foehn Watts
      Foehn Watts commented
      Editing a comment
      And you lived to tell the tale! Yeah, I betcha that grass was dry1

      One Thanksgiving at my sister's, her boyfriend offered to build all the kids attending a bonfire close in front of their garage. During 60 mph Santa Ana winds with 10% or lower humidity. And it was just a couple of months after our mother had lost her house in a fire--and she was there with us!

      And it was non-confrontational me that stepped up and told him no. Sometimes I amaze myself, really!
      Last edited by Foehn Watts; August 16, 2020, 04:24 PM. Reason: addendum

    • synodog
      synodog commented
      Editing a comment
      One of the funniest parts about the backyard fire was the fact that I left a black burned barren circle in the backyard (I still don’t know how I put the fire out so fast). I watered the area to see if I could wash away the ash. No deal. So I grabbed my little sister’s plastic play pool and covered the burned grass. Weeks went by and when taking the garbage out I wondered what had become of the blackened earth. A pretty green circle of grass. Mom didn’t find out the truth until much later.

    • Foehn Watts
      Foehn Watts commented
      Editing a comment
      Dang Synodog!! Yer good: do the deed, hide the evidence! Smooth!

    #10
    So in 1990 I am 14 years old and deer hunting for the first time. We get done with a morning hunt and I ask if we need to unload the rifles. Dad says no. We have farm roads around our fields (got stuck on one and had to walk 2 miles to get a tractor) and the sight of a deer or coyote needs quick action.

    I sit in the truck to show my buddy the rifles in our driveway. I accidentally sit on the lever of the 30-30 which partly cocks the rifle. I fully cock it to eject the shell, and place my thumb on the hammer and pull the trigger to de-cock it. Allegedly/apparently the thumb went numb and BOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!

    Back in those days the floor mat was filled with recycled material of blues-purples-reds and all that crap is floating around the cab and my ears are RINGING!!!!

    I get out the truck and start running laps around the yard. Pretty sure I wet myself but I ran so fast in so many circles the wind dried me off. Word has it you can still see my flight pattern in the yard to this day.

    I hear dad yell my name from inside the house, I keep running, nowhere and back, multiple times. My buddy's dad is a mechanic, he checks out the truck and can't find bullet impact on the cement nor on any truck parts. Truck starts so truck is all good. Ford F-350 dually.

    Dad tells me to drive, yeah drive (still can't feel my legs), to my grandfather's house to pick up the BBQ Pit. It's 1/4 mile one way and once we get on the road and drive 5ft it dies out. Start it, 5-7 more feet, dead. I DID THAT THE WHOLE WAY THERE AND BACK!!

    Miraculously we get back after crossing two cattle-guards and the truck dying quickly every 5-7ft without a BBQ Pit going through the back glass of the truck. I can still see my buddy and brother desperately holding on to that freaking Pit. It took all we had to roll it up the ramps into the truck. Wood ramps you couldn't pay me to use today on an empty dolly.

    Get back and inform dad of the dying truck every 5-7ft. Mechanic goes to a box with a button. The button is popped out. Bullet impacted this box which pops a button out to restrict fuel to the engine so if there is a fire, less fire. Apparently the bullet disintegrated upon impact. Mechanic pushed button back in, and NOW the truck is good to go.

    Nice hole from a 150 grain 30-30 bullet left in the floorboard. During the winter months dad threatened to make me stick my finger in that hole to stop the cold air from coming in.

    For some reason I only used that gun for one season. Upgraded to a Model 700 bolt action that doesn't need de-cocking. Panhead John

    Comment


    • Panhead John
      Panhead John commented
      Editing a comment
      I like the fact you were going to get a BBQ pit! Started at an early age! And I’ll bet your ears WERE ringing. Especially if the doors and windows were closed.

    • Foehn Watts
      Foehn Watts commented
      Editing a comment
      Great story!!! And what a co-inkydink with the fuel restricting button. Thank you very much.

    • RonB
      RonB commented
      Editing a comment
      One of my cousins had a similar incident with a friend who had an unloaded rifle in my cousins truck. Friend pulled the trigger to prove it was unloaded...

      Final score - one bullet hole in the floorboard and one less friend.

    #11
    I was exporting cars out of Caifornia and bought a hearse in Pennsylvania.
    The trucking company fell through and I had it booked on a boat leaving in 4 days. So I Jumped on a red eye flight from LAX , landed and collected the car (2000 Cadillac). And I started driving back to CA, 2700 Miles.
    Cops lit me up going 95 through St Louis at 2 am. I slowed down and they past me by. Drove until I was so tired I couldn't see anymore and pulled into a rest stop in Missouri. I was too cheap to pay for a hotel, so I climbed in the back for a few hours sleep. (Damm those rollers sure are uncomfortable to lay on) .
    Woke up in the morning and swung the back door open and staggered out. There was an old couple walking their dog and their jaws dropped, they were mortified and didn't say a word... I got back in, drove all day and slept again at a rest stop in Arizona. Must of averaged about 85 mph all the way including fueling.
    Made it back in time but was a full on drive.

    Comment


    • Bogy
      Bogy commented
      Editing a comment
      It was Barry Newman, but yep, that's the one. Challenger vs. Bulldozer.

    • ComfortablyNumb
      ComfortablyNumb commented
      Editing a comment
      I have tried for the life of me to find the original’Vanishing Point’ but have been unsuccessful. I saw it in the theater when it came out and would like to watch it again. If anyone has a source I’m all ears.

    • Bogy
      Bogy commented
      Editing a comment
      ComfortablyNumb Its hard to find. I recorded it on TCM and watched it a couple of times. It was released on bluray/DVD about 2009. You can get it on amazon. https://www.amazon.com/Vanishing-Poi...g+point&sr=8-1 I first saw it in 1971 at a drive in.
      Last edited by Bogy; August 16, 2020, 10:12 PM.

    #12
    Was going to a race in Ft Stockton TX in a F4000 with 3 axle trailer leaving out of Austin TX. We were late leaving and going to drive all night. ( Had a additional fuel tank and we could go 600 miles without stopping. We would change drivers by one sliding over the top of the other and keep on going). Got 20 miles out of Fredricksburg and snapped a serpentine belt. So we decided to call a friend in Oak hill Tx to buy one and drive it out to us. Well out in the country the cell reception was terrible, so my buddy climbs up on top of the race trailer for better signal. It's night by now and he is still having trouble with the cell signal. "Can you hear me ,can you hear me "? Just then a bat starts swooping on him. He is dancing on top of the trailers trying to talk and this bat is going at him "are you there, are you there???.... I was in tears pissing myself with laughter...
    Last edited by Ahumadora; August 16, 2020, 04:43 PM.

    Comment


      #13
      My fathers trying to light an old Habachi loaded with hardwood using newspaper.
      Keeps on fizzling out, newsprint won't get her done.
      Tries again gets a small flame that's going nowhere fast
      Cursing and swearing goes into the garage and comes out with a can of gasoline
      Stands back 3-4 feet and lobs the gas on the flame
      WOOOOF up she goes
      Not happy he gives it a second lob of gas
      Too this day I still see the flame following the arc of the gas into the gas can
      So how he's holding a flaming can and decides to throw it out on the street
      It helicopters a few yards spewing flames out as it spins but lands nowhere near the road
      He gives it a kick and it helicopters, spewing flames right underneath his pick up parked in the driveway
      So now he's trying to kick the burning gas can from underneath his truck but can't get a good hack at it
      Its moving a foot at a time continuing to burn while we wait for the explosion
      Finally gets a good kick at it and hoofs it helicoptering spewing flames onto the road into traffic
      So now my mothers waiting inside....

      Comment


        #14
        A story my dad told me about an old rancher he knew.
        Must of happened back in the late 50's - early 60's.

        So the rancher was having trouble with a hawk, preying on all the young ducklings on his farm.

        So he ended up setting a trap and caught the hawk.

        "Right you #@^& bird I am going to teach you a lesson" he told himself. He went and got a full stick of gelignite, long fuse and taped it to the birds leg, then lit the fuse.

        Well by this time the bird is pretty messed up from being man handed and toting a full stick of explosive.
        He let it go and it flapped around on the ground.... "go on get outta here" he was yelling and trying to shoo the bird away..
        Eventually the bird got airborne and started flying away.... "haha" this is going to be fun he thought to himself.
        Well the hawk done a big circle and came back around and landed on his barn roof.
        The old rancher was screaming and throwing crap at the bird but it didn't move..

        Well it ended up blowing half the roof off his barn........
        Last edited by Ahumadora; August 16, 2020, 05:06 PM.

        Comment


          #15
          Okay, here’s one true, funny, and weird. And good.

          1978. I’m living in the Midwest, and The Ramones are playing some small club in Chicago. I’m 6’2”, and back then I was a fairly in-shape 220lbs. I was with my friend Bill, who was 6’5” and close to 300. We looked like linebacker and defensive lineman. Both mid 20s.

          So we’re standing in line for this show, counting the people in front of us and wondering if we’ll make it in, and a couple guys walk up to us and say, “Hey! You two! How’d you like to get in for free?” And Bill and I looked at each other and first weren’t sure what we were hearing, and then said, of course!

          All we had to do was stand in front of the stage and keep people from rushing the stage.

          Okay. We can do that.

          SO, we were taken to the back door, went in, didn’t get to meet The Ramones because they walked right by at double time, and we stood in front of the stage looking as big and mean as two goofy big guys who were really lit up possibly could.

          The first band was B.B.Spin. I don’t remember anything about them, except the lead singer yelled at me about something and I laughed at her.

          Then The Ramones came on. And Bill and I looked at each other and said, screw this guard shit, we’re here for the show! And we turned around to face the stage. I was as close to Joey Ramone as I am to this keyboard: RIGHT THERE. Johnny would come to the front of the stage, his hand moving so fast it was a blur. And it was LOUD. Like, louder than anything I’ve ever heard, before or after. Maybe The Plasmatics were louder, but I wasn’t as close.

          It was freakin’ glorious. It was 70s era Ramones: Blitzkrieg Bop, Shock Treatment, Sheena, Rockaway Beach, all of them. There’s a recording available, NYC 1978 same show. 90 hot, fast minutes of speed punk.

          No encore. They played all the songs they had and left. All I could hear was an echo. We drove the couple hours back to Indiana in silence; neither of us could hear a bloody thing. The next morning, I couldn’t hear a bloody thing. Someone would talk to me and it was like I had my hands over my ears.

          A couple days later, I could hear somewhat better. But I’m sure I’ve never heard better than I did right before that show. But then again, I traded that for one awesome story.
          Last edited by Mosca; August 16, 2020, 05:24 PM.

          Comment


          • Mosca
            Mosca commented
            Editing a comment
            And yeah, a lot of my concert details are limited to about 15 seconds. I saw Sabbath, don’t remember a damn thing except where I sat. Led Zep, on the “How The West Was Won” tour, someone threw a cherry bomb from the upper deck and it exploded right behind us, But we barely heard it because the band was so loud.

          • Panhead John
            Panhead John commented
            Editing a comment
            Man, never got to see Zeppelin. You’re lucky!.......Donnie and Marie? Well, I would go see them.....but I’ve spent all my money on Celine Dion and Justin Bieber concerts.
            Last edited by Panhead John; August 17, 2020, 09:11 PM.

          • Foehn Watts
            Foehn Watts commented
            Editing a comment
            I love good performers. Gimme some tickets and I will go to see just about anyone. Last year I almost went to see a metal (if I remember right) band from Mongolia, called Hu. I like their videos and music. But I was recuperating from knee surgery and it was the last minute when I found out about it.

            Years ago, when I must've been 18 or so, I went with my Mom to see Peggy Lee, who my Mom loved. Ma was like OMG, and I was all meh, who is this person? My loss!

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