My father simply can't be my biological father...
-he came over Saturday to detail my moms VW Bug. He was going to wash it with water and Kerosene. Then I talked him into adding at least some car wash soap... Then he scrubbed the dirt and tar off the doors, fenders and quarter panels with the green course scrubber side of a dish sponge. I tried to fix the scratches with rubbing compound to no avail. Then he wanted to touch up the chips with a yellow paint pen, but insisted the color underneath be white and not the primer I offered. So we ran to Autozone for a white paint pen. Then he got sucked into the ricer aisle. I told him to get out of there. He was honestly looking at the stickers with flames coming from a fake vent and trying to find a "Mayhem" sticker. (He's still on this "Mayhem" kick). We got back to the house and instead of using the ball point end of the paint pen, he used the brush. So instead of a little chip there was a huge white glob. And the yellow paint pen was mostly dried up. So my mom got her car back worse than it was... Next time I'll have to supervise him working on any automobiles.
Now that I think about it, he used to assemble my bikes as a kid. I would cautiously ride them in the driveway until I got home then i would tighten all the nuts/bolts and re-thread the pedals so they weren't cross threaded. Guess that's when I first started wrenching on my whip when i was a little kid. Haha
If anyone knows who my real father is, please tell him I miss him. (wiggle)