Now
that's an enthralling tale, frogza.
Mine, not so much...
My brother and I were 7 and 8 when my father brought home a truckload of used bricks one summer and announced he was going to pave our dirt driveway.
Since most of the bricks were in a state of disrepair, and we wouldn't be able to have many whole ones, he decided we would bust them up to a more or less uniform size.
So, my brother and I spent our free time busting bricks that summer for the Keith St. Chain-gang. :-/
One bright, hot summer day, there we three were, down in the dirt using ball peen hammers, claw hammers, and sledge hammers to get the bricks to the right size, and up walk a couple of Mormon men.
I think they wanted to possibly proselytize my father and us, I don't really know, but my father, instead of getting upset about them interrupting us, he said if they wanted to talk, they'd have to grab a hammer and help out.
Let me tell you, those gents saved a lot of my brother's and I's summer vacation.
They helped reduce the pile of bricks by half that day, where it had taken us a week to do a quarter of that.
Hard workers those Mormons were.
They didn't convert my father, though they earned our respect.
===
On a different tale, I was mowing lawns one summer as a kid and went to collect my earnings from the lady.
She was a very pretty lady to my inexperienced eyes, and when she answered her door in a bikini, (the first bikini I'd seen in person, instead of t.v., mind you) I was understandibly tongue-tied.
I don't remember collecting the money. I 'woke' up walking down the sidewalk with the cash clutched in my hands and had to go back for my lawnmower.
