tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post8062909490155617826..comments2024-03-22T18:13:10.026-06:00Comments on On the Alberta/Montana Border: ParkedDiane Stringam Tolleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629946536985545457noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-24024912938818366982015-02-27T13:00:18.885-07:002015-02-27T13:00:18.885-07:00Nothing wrong with going out for a ride real early...Nothing wrong with going out for a ride real early. Nothing wrong with taking the truck either. What you did wrong was get caught. That rarely turns out well, LOL!<br />I wish I had known you back then. Sounds like you were so much fun.Karen @Baking In A Tornadohttp://www.bakinginatornado.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-2547578058848743812015-02-27T09:27:00.804-07:002015-02-27T09:27:00.804-07:00I remember my daughter's first time driving. W...I remember my daughter's first time driving. We all went out for a drive her, hubby and I. I was in the backseat and hubby was "instructing" while I held on for dear life. The ride is over and we are back at home pulling into the driveway when she pulls into quickly and slams the side of her father's truck, right in the driver's door. He was none to happy!Renahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12296781992150172086noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-26788876839897815602015-02-27T08:39:15.653-07:002015-02-27T08:39:15.653-07:00Yeah. I had my motorbike days as well. Loved those...Yeah. I had my motorbike days as well. Loved those days . . .<br />Stern but forgiving. That describes my Dad whenever one of us kids did anything untoward. Which was often.Diane Stringam Tolleyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09629946536985545457noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-78974218295628185722015-02-27T08:38:03.407-07:002015-02-27T08:38:03.407-07:00*Yawn*. You have a point . . .*Yawn*. You have a point . . .Diane Stringam Tolleyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09629946536985545457noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-89720622398834635342015-02-27T08:37:38.968-07:002015-02-27T08:37:38.968-07:00You're right. My record for getting past my Da...You're right. My record for getting past my Dad's anger is 100%. He's still scary, though! :)Diane Stringam Tolleyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09629946536985545457noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-42564315491689622942015-02-27T08:35:41.604-07:002015-02-27T08:35:41.604-07:00Heehee! And yikes! My Dad sympathizes with your Da...Heehee! And yikes! My Dad sympathizes with your Dad.Diane Stringam Tolleyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09629946536985545457noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-87446862388721261302015-02-27T03:04:02.065-07:002015-02-27T03:04:02.065-07:00I never learned to drive a car, but I did ride a m...I never learned to drive a car, but I did ride a motor bike. Much easier to park, since it wasn't much wider than myself.<br />Your dad seems very forgiving, in spite of being woken so early by several crunching noises.Riverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14794655013673748992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-31450795105248410482015-02-26T20:37:44.400-07:002015-02-26T20:37:44.400-07:00Nothing good comes of getting up that early!Nothing good comes of getting up that early!jenny_ohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15475480579733466963noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-48743641204025281922015-02-26T14:27:58.855-07:002015-02-26T14:27:58.855-07:00i can see him standing there glaring at you...smok...i can see him standing there glaring at you...smoke coming out of his ears, sparks shooting from his eyes. Still...you lived through it...couldn't have been TOO bad. Could it?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3723327840869334395.post-33410322951096566632015-02-26T13:18:08.517-07:002015-02-26T13:18:08.517-07:00I grew up in a house at the end of a very long, na...I grew up in a house at the end of a very long, narrow driveway. The only way to get back out was to do a sort of backwards u-turn. And my parents had HUGE cars. A time or two I left tire marks on the edge of our neighbors grass - until they put big rocks along the border. You can imagine what happened next! My poor father pounded out a lot of dents!Lanahttp://www.twoteensandtheirmama.com/noreply@blogger.com