Gleaning from Dave's post about telling stories of those that have gone before us and be remembered, if only in our personal hearts.
When I was 16, my dad asked me to take him somewhere. I had a '69 396 Chevelle that was rated at 375 horsepower, not to shabby. We were in the neighborhood when he saw some flashing red lights ahead. History: he had been a volunteer firefighter in New York many years prior and had come to the rescue of a couple of houses in our neighborhood when their kitchens caught fire. So anyway, we are heading down the street when he spies flashing lights ahead, he tells me to "floor it", LOL, so I do. We crossed the speed trap line going God only knows how fast. We get down to the lights and it's a line up of the speeders, which I'm now one of. The officer walks up to the car and asks for the usual. The officer starts to lecture about speeding when, my dad leans over and tells him ...... "Either write the little Son-of-a-bitch a ticket or let him go"......
I handed my father the ticket and told him to pay it............... He did
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by N8YX
