Wild and crazy stories from your past

oldpop said:
When I was about ten years old I was looking out a sliding glass door during a pretty strong electrical storm and saw a bright ball like the image in your second pic. It was coming out of the sky straight at me. There was a loud boom and it knocked me down into a chair that was right behind me. I could taste copper afterwords. Scared the bejesus out of me
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Oh YES. Free floating electricity is dangerously powerful stuff. I wished that I could have seen the lake from where I was to see if these electrical lightning balls danced across the water. If I was in the house I would have been able to but there’s no way I was leaving the trailer with them scurrying around on the ground. There were so many of them.
I’d often swim during thunder/lightening storms ( I lived dangerously ) but stopped after this night. I had no idea before seeing this that lightning could be so dangerous.
 

Graphic mental image Warning. This may be a bit risque but it is definitely one of the craziest things amongst many I ever did .
When I was nineteen years old I was visiting my then girlfriend at her parents house. We were in the living room and her parents were in the dinning room turned den in the next room behind us watching TV. No doors between either room. Being young and carefree we decided we would attempt to make whoopee right there on the couch. I will not go into details but we were both full clothed. o_O
 
PeppermintPatty said:
I’d often swim during thunder/lightening storms
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My mother always insisted on going into the nearest lake or water body whenever it stormed, the more thunder and lighting the better. I always went with her. We lived right on the Gulf of Mexico for about 20 years, so got to see a lot of thunderstorms that way. She did it up until almost her dying day, so did I (well into my 50s). Haven't done it since she passed.

I don't think being in the water is as dangerous as walking down the beach to get in.
 
Alligatorob said:
My mother always insisted on going into the nearest lake or water body whenever it stormed, the more thunder and lighting the better. I always went with her. We lived right on the Gulf of Mexico for about 20 years, so got to see a lot of thunderstorms that way. She did it up until almost her dying day, so did I (well into my 50s). Haven't done it since she passed.

I don't think being in the water is as dangerous as walking down the beach to get in.
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Oh I agree completely. I was exactly the same way and it was super exciting swimming way out into the lake and seeing the light show. It’s a feeling I can’t quite describe. I’d swim out as far as I could. It was thrilling . The sense of freedom was like nothing else.

I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mom sounds like she was a lot of fun.

The biggest reason I stopped was the man I hooked up with. He insisted that it was ridiculously dangerous 🙄 Made me get rid of my motorcycle. I wasn’t allowed to climb trees or ladders. 🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️ My wings were clipped. Still are. 😝 The joys of companionship. Lol
 
Alligatorob said:
you may taste something metallic in your mouth just before a lightning strike. Electrical stimulation in general can lead to a metallic taste, including electrical discharge from batteries. If you taste something metallic, you are already experiencing some form of electrical current

7 SIGNS THAT LIGHTNING IS ABOUT TO STRIKE
https://www.michiganlightning.com/7-signs-that-lightning-is-about-to-strike
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What an interesting article. Thanks for adding it. That change in the ozone that can be smelled is something I can definitely recall. The smell outside after a good thunder/ lightening storm is sooo very nice. It’s like the freshest air ever. Great memories.
 
In our late teens, me and two buddies were driving down the country road not far from my house. The one on the passenger side who smoked, lit a match for his cigarette, and we dared him to throw it out the window, so out the window it went. We slowed down and looked back, and sure enough, smoke was coming out of the tall grass. We threw it in reverse, jumped out, and tried to kick dirt on it with our feet, but it was spreading too fast. We jumped back in the car, sped down to my house, grabbed a couple shovels and back we went. We tried our best to control it, but no luck.
Someone passing by must have notified the fire department, and before long several trucks were on the scene and after some time, were able to get it under control. They questioned us as to how it started, we said we didn't know, we were just driving by and spotted it and were trying to do what we could to keep it from growing. They commended us for our efforts and bravery, and we learned a valuable lesson that day. If something seems stupid on the surface, it probably is.
 
Man, I could write a book. This one's a bit long, but, I guess it would be considered crazy.
Me and my 54 Plymouth.

Had a rusty beat down 54 Plymouth that the old farmer up the road gave to me. Wasn't much, but it ran perfect andgot me over the mountain to a girl friends place. One snowy winter day, on my drive over, I heard a dragging sound. Looking out the mirror, I saw I was dragging the gas tank behind me stretching out the rubber hose. Pulled over and saw the straps had rusted and broke. No problem. Opened the trunk and with the jack handle, poked a hole in the floor and put the tank in there. (running the rubber line through the hole). Since the tank tended to slide around a bit, I propped some old car batteries I had in the trunk around it. (worked great... never thought about what a
spark would do). :oops: Drove the old car that way and then, one day the drivers frame rusted through and broke just behind the drivers door. No problem except it also broke the brake line that ran along the frame. Door never closed and latched after that and No brakes, but, by driving kinda slow and sticking it in reverse once in a while, I was able to stop. Being winter and snowy, the times I couldn't stop, I just turned into a snow bank. Then with the trusty Handyman Jack, I'd jack the car up and push it off until it was back on the road. Worked well for a young frisky guy with a girl on the other side of the mountain. Drove it like that and then, the clutch let go.(I imagine had something to do with the reverse trick). Anyway, out came the trusty handyman jack. picked the whole side of the car and changed the clutch in the snowy yard. putting the transmission back in was proving to be a fight... just wouldn't go and my arms were getting tired. So I propped it up and let go of it and it immediately dropped down and hit me in the head. Cracked my skull a good one. Crawled out with blood running down my face and in a rage I picked up a length of logging chain and commenced beating the roof of the car. Slipped and smashed out the back window. That doubled my rage and I kicked the jack. Down came the car and landed on my foot. I limped up the road to where I had an old junk Chrysler and grabbing a fence board,I pounded the roof of that car until I couldn't stand up. Packed some snow on my head, and calmly walked back to the Plymouth, jacked it up and don't you know, the trans slipped right in. Buttoned it up and headed across the mountain to see my girl friend. Snow was blowing in the back window opening and created a mini blizzard inside, but, I didn't mind
as I had a really good heater. :D I drove that old car all winter just like that and it kept shedding parts. First, one fender rusted so bad, I had to pull it off. Then the hood flew up once and bent the hinges and it wouldn't close tight anymore. The finish was when the last remaining headlight rusted so bad that it fell out. Not being able to drive at night, I sadly gave up on that old car.


54.jpg 54ply.jpg
 
Alligatorob said:
Shark fishing adventure.

When I was 13 or 14 went on an all night shark fishing trip to Hurricane Pass in Florida, with a friend about the same age. We were in his 14 ft boat that seemed big to me at the time.

First we caught a huge stingray, over 100 lbs, the biggest I have ever caught. After landing it we decided to cut it up for chum and bait. We had trouble cutting into the skeleton so took the filleted carcass, probably 40 lbs and tied it to our anchor for more chum. Nothing was biting so we fell asleep... for a little while.

Woke to the boat being violently jerked and dragged but before we could get fully awake it stopped. The anchor line was slack and when we pulled it in. The chunk of meat, a 10 lb anchor and 3 feet of chain were gone... Never saw the shark, probably for the best.

We did once catch a 12' tiger shark a few miles offshore (in a much bigger boat with adult supervision), and had seen a couple of great whites. I suppose it was probably one of them. Probably for the best it didn't hang on long we were very ill equipped to land one.
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No greater age for fishing adventures like that. My Uncle took me out for marlin a few times one summer when I was 14. He had this classic old wooden Chris Craft mini cabin cruiser called the Sportsman Sedan. Remember them?...with all the beautiful wood-grain throughout?

Anyway, we did get a marlin on the line, but we lost the fight and he got away. But I got to get strapped to the pole and keep that big boy online while my uncle moved some gear to that side of the boat. In that short while, that fish about wore out my back and my puny new biceps that I was so proud of. I was relieved when my uncle took over, but it was so awesome feeling that creature's strength and power, and so humbling that I hated having to give it over.

I mean, that's when you know for certain you're not a man yet, right?....and you have a lot farther to go than you thought. It's not a defeated feeling, though. It's inspiring.

My uncle fought that incredible fish for another half-hour or so before it broke the line. I got to watch it breech and flail several times. Unforgettable.
 
Murrmurr said:
No greater age for fishing adventures like that. My Uncle took me out for marlin a few times one summer when I was 14. He had this classic old wooden Chris Craft mini cabin cruiser called the Sportsman Sedan. Remember them?...with all the beautiful wood-grain throughout?

Anyway, we did get a marlin on the line, but we lost the fight and he got away. But I got to get strapped to the pole and keep that big boy online while my uncle moved some gear to that side of the boat. In that short while, that fish about wore out my back and my puny new biceps that I was so proud of. I was relieved when my uncle took over, but it was so awesome feeling that creature's strength and power, and so humbling that I hated having to give it over.

I mean, that's when you know for certain you're not a man yet, right?....and you have a lot farther to go than you thought. It's not a defeated feeling, though. It's inspiring.

My uncle fought that incredible fish for another half-hour or so before it broke the line. I got to watch it breech and flail several times. Unforgettable.
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Great story!! The young man and the sea.
 
When I was 19, my two girlfriends and I were asked by three guys on a triple date.
They took us to Tijuana and driving around, the guy driving was speeding.
Motorcycles were after us so he drove even faster to try to make it to the border.

You're not going to believe this but they started SHOOTING AT US!
We girls all crunched on the floor but the bullets hit the back window above us.
He got through the border into the US and had to pull over.
When we got out, we looked back and there had to be at least 20 bikes with cops
behind us, stopped. (Mexican officers) Wow!
An officer drove us ladies home and the guys went to jail for the night.
But a US jail, not a Tijuana jail! I even have a photo of us that night!
 
Rewrote this:
I was driving up the Yukon solo but the only way I could get back to the Alcan was to go up this sharp, craggy mountain, thousands of feet high and a dirt road.
It started put as gravel but quickly became mud, snow ice, as it narrowed. No guard rails, couldn't see the edge.
Snowing heavily. I'd pull over to the cliff as far as I could to let the lumber trucks by during the day and we would both pull in our mirrors.
It was thousands of feet high when the last truck squeaked by with his tires on the mountain side.
My Forerunner was at a sharp angle. WAY TOO MUCH OF AN ANGLE!
Opened my driver door and stuck my hand out as far as I could with my purse, so they could identify the body if it came to that.
I scooted over to the far edge of the driver seat and stretched my right arm and leg to maneuver the gas and steering wheel as best I could.
My right front wheel was in the air. It was not a comfortable angle.
It was a balancing act. If the truck slanted even an inch more, I was going to jump.
Don't know how I made it back on the road. I think my angels helped me! But, I made it!
It was night now and snowing heavy. Couldn't see the road at all.
Icy. No visibility. I had to roll down the window and stick my arm out to feel the side of the mountain as the sky and road were one and the same.
At the very top of the mountain, there was a big sign, (had to get out to read it) It said, "Highway to Hell Mountain".
 
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Gaer said:
I even have a photo of us that night!
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That is quite a story. Can you post the photo?

I had a close call with the Mexican Federales once. My Aunt had a trailer on a cliff overlooking a beach near Rosarito Beach between Tajuana and Ensenada. This was way before the modern developments there now, it was an isolated but beautiful place. The trailer had no water or power and the spot was just leased from a farmer. I was 16. My parents and my Aunt went to visit some neighbors leaving me and the cousins alone with a substantial collection of fireworks, and Oso ***** vodka. It was my first real drinking experience.

We found a place on a cliff overlooking the road to Ensenada, started drinking and throwing firecrackers and more onto the highway. Had great fun for a while then the Federales showed up, they demanded (I think, my Spanish isn't good) that we come down. Instead we ran, they followed and we had an hour or so of terror and excitement eluding the Federales in the dark desert. The Federales finally gave up and we snuck back to the trailer, thinking the parents might already be asleep, or still out. No such luck and they had been visited by the Federales looking for us. We caught hell, but not as bad as getting caught by the Federales.
 
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Alligatorob said:
That is quite a story. Can you post the photo?

I had a close call with the Mexican Federales once. My Aunt had a trailer on a cliff overlooking a beach near Rosarito Beach between Tajuana and Ensenada. This was way before the modern developments there now, it was an isolated but beautiful place. The trailer had no water or power and the spot was just leased from a farmer. I was 16. My parents and my Aunt went to visit some neighbors leaving me and the cousins alone with a substantial collection of fireworks, and Oso ***** vodka. It was my first real drinking experience.

We found a place on a cliff overlooking the road to Ensenada, started drinking and throwing firecrackers and more onto the highway. Had great fun for a while then the Federales showed up, they demanded (I think, my Spanish isn't good) that we come down. Instead we ran, they followed and we had an hour or so of terror and excitement eluding the Federales in the dark desert. The Federales finally gave up and we snuck back to the trailer, thinking the parents might already be asleep, or still out. No such luck and they had been visited by the Federales looking for us. We caught hell, but not as bad as getting caught by the Federales.
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Sure, Here's a photo of us that night before the excitement started.
Deani is my girlfriend on the left, in the middle, me and a guy named Chuck, and my dear friend Barb on the right. (don't remember the guys names) Barb and her two children were later killed by her husband Mark James Bender. 009.JPG

No pictures of the cops chasing us, sorry.
 
squatting dog said:
Man, I could write a book. This one's a bit long, but, I guess it would be considered crazy.
Me and my 54 Plymouth.

Had a rusty beat down 54 Plymouth that the old farmer up the road gave to me. Wasn't much, but it ran perfect andgot me over the mountain to a girl friends place. One snowy winter day, on my drive over, I heard a dragging sound. Looking out the mirror, I saw I was dragging the gas tank behind me stretching out the rubber hose. Pulled over and saw the straps had rusted and broke. No problem. Opened the trunk and with the jack handle, poked a hole in the floor and put the tank in there. (running the rubber line through the hole). Since the tank tended to slide around a bit, I propped some old car batteries I had in the trunk around it. (worked great... never thought about what a
spark would do). :oops: Drove the old car that way and then, one day the drivers frame rusted through and broke just behind the drivers door. No problem except it also broke the brake line that ran along the frame. Door never closed and latched after that and No brakes, but, by driving kinda slow and sticking it in reverse once in a while, I was able to stop. Being winter and snowy, the times I couldn't stop, I just turned into a snow bank. Then with the trusty Handyman Jack, I'd jack the car up and push it off until it was back on the road. Worked well for a young frisky guy with a girl on the other side of the mountain. Drove it like that and then, the clutch let go.(I imagine had something to do with the reverse trick). Anyway, out came the trusty handyman jack. picked the whole side of the car and changed the clutch in the snowy yard. putting the transmission back in was proving to be a fight... just wouldn't go and my arms were getting tired. So I propped it up and let go of it and it immediately dropped down and hit me in the head. Cracked my skull a good one. Crawled out with blood running down my face and in a rage I picked up a length of logging chain and commenced beating the roof of the car. Slipped and smashed out the back window. That doubled my rage and I kicked the jack. Down came the car and landed on my foot. I limped up the road to where I had an old junk Chrysler and grabbing a fence board,I pounded the roof of that car until I couldn't stand up. Packed some snow on my head, and calmly walked back to the Plymouth, jacked it up and don't you know, the trans slipped right in. Buttoned it up and headed across the mountain to see my girl friend. Snow was blowing in the back window opening and created a mini blizzard inside, but, I didn't mind
as I had a really good heater. :D I drove that old car all winter just like that and it kept shedding parts. First, one fender rusted so bad, I had to pull it off. Then the hood flew up once and bent the hinges and it wouldn't close tight anymore. The finish was when the last remaining headlight rusted so bad that it fell out. Not being able to drive at night, I sadly gave up on that old car.


View attachment 290263 View attachment 290264
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OMG, that was a hilarious story. That must have been some girl to have gone through all that just to see her. I commend you on all the tactics you used to keep that old beast on the road. That poor old car was just running on life support. Great story!
 
Gaer said:
When I was 19, my two girlfriends and I were asked by three guys on a triple date.
They took us to Tijuana and driving around, the guy driving was speeding.
Motorcycles were after us so he drove even faster to try to make it to the border.

You're not going to believe this but they started SHOOTING AT US!
We girls all crunched on the floor but the bullets hit the back window above us.
He got through the border into the US and had to pull over.
When we got out, we looked back and there had to be at least 20 bikes with cops
behind us, stopped. (Mexican officers) Wow!
An officer drove us ladies home and the guys went to jail for the night.
But a US jail, not a Tijuana jail! I even have a photo of us that night!
Click to expand...
Wow, I never imagined you as a fugitive from justice. I always say: "If you want to have a memorable life, you have to do memorable things". That certainly qualifies.
 
Gaer said:
Rewrote this:
I was driving up the Yukon solo but the only way I could get back to the Alcan was to go up this sharp, craggy mountain, thousands of feet high and a dirt road.
It started put as gravel but quickly became mud, snow ice, as it narrowed. No guard rails, couldn't see the edge.
Snowing heavily. I'd pull over to the cliff as far as I could to let the lumber trucks by during the day and we would both pull in our mirrors.
It was thousands of feet high when the last truck squeaked by with his tires on the mountain side.
My Forerunner was at a sharp angle. WAY TOO MUCH OF AN ANGLE!
Opened my driver door and stuck my hand out as far as I could with my purse, so they could identify the body if it came to that.
I scooted over to the far edge of the driver seat and stretched my right arm and leg to maneuver the gas and steering wheel as best I could.
My right front wheel was in the air. It was not a comfortable angle.
It was a balancing act. If the truck slanted even an inch more, I was going to jump.
Don't know how I made it back on the road. I think my angels helped me! But, I made it!
It was night now and snowing heavy. Couldn't see the road at all.
Icy. No visibility. I had to roll down the window and stick my arm out to feel the side of the mountain as the sky and road were one and the same.
At the very top of the mountain, there was a big sign, (had to get out to read it) It said, "Highway to Hell Mountain".
Click to expand...
Wow. You are an adventurous sort. I'll give you that. Quite a story !
 
Gaer said:
Sure, Here's a photo of us that night before the excitement started.
Deani is my girlfriend on the left, in the middle, me and a guy named Chuck, and my dear friend Barb on the right. (don't remember the guys names) Barb and her two children were later killed by her husband Mark James Bender. View attachment 290392

No pictures of the cops chasing us, sorry.
Click to expand...
There's probably still wanted dead or alive posters along the border in Mexico. Lol.
 
Murrmurr said:
No greater age for fishing adventures like that. My Uncle took me out for marlin a few times one summer when I was 14. He had this classic old wooden Chris Craft mini cabin cruiser called the Sportsman Sedan. Remember them?...with all the beautiful wood-grain throughout?

Anyway, we did get a marlin on the line, but we lost the fight and he got away. But I got to get strapped to the pole and keep that big boy online while my uncle moved some gear to that side of the boat. In that short while, that fish about wore out my back and my puny new biceps that I was so proud of. I was relieved when my uncle took over, but it was so awesome feeling that creature's strength and power, and so humbling that I hated having to give it over.

I mean, that's when you know for certain you're not a man yet, right?....and you have a lot farther to go than you thought. It's not a defeated feeling, though. It's inspiring.

My uncle fought that incredible fish for another half-hour or so before it broke the line. I got to watch it breech and flail several times. Unforgettable.
Click to expand...
Man, that is a dream fishing expedition. Not many get to experience that.
 
Another story. So again in my teens: The town I grew up in was small, and several of the families in town with money pooled their assets, and constructed a pool, however, they were the only ones with keys to the gate, and it had a high fence all the way around. Well, my friends and I didn't care much for that situation, so we would wait until after dark, scale the fence and go skinny dipping.
That worked fine for awhile until the word got out what we were doing, and one night as we were frolicking in their pool, car lights came on all the way around except the back fence that bordered a neighboring yard. We grabbed our clothes and beat feet for the rear fence. We threw the clothes over, and we weren't far behind them. We managed to get our clothes on before they showed up with flashlights and grabbed us, and off to the sheriff's dept we went. They told us we were in deep trouble.
Anyway, that night my mom read me the riot act, but afterwards she asked if they caught us in the pool. I told her "no, they caught us in the neighbor's yard. She then said, "Well, if they didn't catch you in the pool, then they can't prove you were in the pool". Suddenly my love for my mom doubled, and we let the authorities know that they had no case. They dropped charges.
 
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