Late 70-s, late teens I had just moved in with my dad (divorced). Too many Mickys Big Mouths with a friend. I came home and my dad purposefully rearranged the furniture so I caught the coffee table across my shins and did a face plant on the other side. I could hear him snickering upstairs. I stumbled downstairs and lay on the floor with bad spinnies punctuated by barfing into a large Un-Cola 7UP trash can. Next day, got up late, furniture back in place, dad long gone, took the trash can out to the dumpster when I noticed my '68 Olds 442, built engine, trans, 5.13:1 rear gears, slicks, was missing.
I saw a long set of tire marks down the street and with major headache, followed them. Another set way down the block and around the corner. Three blocks away, at the last set of rubber marks I found a trail of 90 wt and sheared bolt heads. My car was on the sidewalk, bleeding gear oil out the differential cover, ring gears had blown holes like a machine gun through the steel. Never really recalled what happened, dad never said anything but how's your night. Really glad I didn't end up killing someone or myself.
I saw a long set of tire marks down the street and with major headache, followed them. Another set way down the block and around the corner. Three blocks away, at the last set of rubber marks I found a trail of 90 wt and sheared bolt heads. My car was on the sidewalk, bleeding gear oil out the differential cover, ring gears had blown holes like a machine gun through the steel. Never really recalled what happened, dad never said anything but how's your night. Really glad I didn't end up killing someone or myself.


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