2004/07/16, 01:59 AM
Okay, so today my grandma (Nana) informed me that she's had her picture in Easy Rider magazine.....:cool: She says she wasn't nekked, but apparantly there's a lot about Nana I didn't know! :surprised:
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2004/07/16, 05:25 AM
Your grandma sounds like a pretty cool lady, you're very lucky to have her, nekked or not.:)
-------------- Anni
*******
Hard work must have killed somebody
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2004/07/16, 05:32 AM
Id be proud if it was my Nana, heck im proud of your Nana.
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2004/07/16, 10:12 AM
I hope I didn't imply that I'm not proud of her! My Nana is great, I don't know what I'd do without her. Does anyone else have any cool stories about their grandparents? Nana also used to build race cars. :cool:
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2004/07/16, 10:57 AM
Little Grandma always wanted to own a Harley, and join the local gang. As for posing in the Easy Rider Mag., I’m sure she would have if asked. When Grandpa passed away, she bought the Harley, and decided to confront the leader of the gang, at his house.
She knocked on his door; a big burly guy answered the door and asked what she wanted. She expressed the interest in joining the gang, and wanted to know what she had to do to be part of it.
With a grumbling laugh he asked; do you own a Harley?:surprised::laugh:
Grandma pointed to the brand new Harley sitting on the street, and said, that’s mine.
With a grumble he asked; do you smoke and drink?:cool:
Grandma responded with; I smoke 3 packs a day, and could drink any man under the table.
With a growling laugh he stated, ok, last question, have you ever been picked up by the fuzz?:angry:
Grandma thought long and hard, and stated. No sir, I have never been picked up by the fuzz, but I have been grabbed by my nipples and twirled around a couple of times. :big_smile:
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2004/07/16, 12:41 PM
My grandad was a highway patrolman. I have a picture of him in uniform standing by the biggest motorcycle I ever saw. It's an Indian.
On his first night heading home from patrol he was riding home on a back South Carolina road. There was road construction which left a large hole in the highway which was lit by those old black cannonball looking things called smudge pots. A storm blew through that night and the pots had blown out.
Grandad rode right into the hole, broke four ribs and his upper arm. According to grandma it was very bloody. He got the bike up, rode on home and walked into the house. When grandma saw him she took two steps back and fainted dead away. Blam right on the floor. She woke up and helped him patch himself up. It was 1929
In their house was a large overstuffed rocking chair. I remember it from visiting when I was a kid. Grandma explained to me that this was her fainting chair. This wasn't the last time granddad came home broken and bloodied. Grandad claimed to have broken every bone in his body ridin that "damn indian" When he would get home grandma would take one look ,two steps back and faint....every time. Then they would commence doctorin.
Nearing his death , he told me he wanted me to promise that I would never set foot on a motorcycle. I did and I haven't.
Even more interesting, after he died he left me his unmarked highway patrol car. He had bought it when he retired. It was a 1960 ford with the police intercepter motor and one of the first 5 speed transmissions ever made. It would fly. I was 16. Never got to even sit in it. Dad said not in this lifetime, sold the car and bought me a new trumpet.
Go figure.
-------------- Foolish consistancies are the hobgoblins of small minds.
Charlie
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