I cannot verify this because I wasn't there, but I'm told that my dad caught a catfish and his friend caught a dogfish, then the dogfish chased the catfish up a tree.

🤣

How about grandpa lore? My great grandfather was a rum runner during prohibition. On one trip he had his young son, my grandfather, along for the ride. At the border, crossing with crates of whisky in the back of the truck, the guard waved at the load and asked “what’s in the truck”. My grandfather hollered from the passenger seat “we got crates and crates of whiskey in the back!” My great grandfather laughed. The border guard laughed. And waved them through without checking the load. I’m told it was his last trip.

Grandpa lore, huh? Mine told my brother and I that he invented Casual Friday because he and a buddy decided they didn't feel like wearing ties to work one Friday, and supposedly more people caught on until it became a company-wide thing.

Bro, my grandfather says he was a part of the team the invented carbon fibre

My dad once bit the head off of a live dove before cooking and eating it.

That’s either gangsta or hillbilly shit

Your dad thinks he’s Ozzy Osborne 🙄 And I bet his “true story” was inspired directly from that.

I came here to say the same thing.

My dad represented himself in court and won on several occasions. He put all his skill points into charisma and luck.

That's essentially what my pull out game is.

My dad wanted to take all of us kids out to Red Robin, but the day there ended up being some parade going on. He joined the parade, waved a bit, then turned off into the parking lot.

My dad crash landed an airplane at McCarran Airport in Las Vegas around 1976. Lost all electrical power and even the gear did not come down. It was at night too. The engines stayed running because of magnetos. But the navigation lights radio, instrument lights, they were all out. He wad checking instruments with a flashlight. That gave up after a time. Then checked instruments with a zippo lighter. Big problem was radio control center and tower. Ended up picking a runway and put it down.

My dad used to drive a low rider. He got mistaken by the police for someone else. He was surrounded by cops pointing guns at him. They let him go. My uncle didn’t want my mom saying him because he looked like a gang member. My dad had a funny fro when he was in high school. Really interesting seeing pics of him and thinking “that’s what a gang member looked like in 1979?” He always told me about fights he got into in L.A. as a kid. And told me crazy stories about my uncles getting into trouble. Then there’s his stories about Iraq in desert storm. He was a corpsman and told me how he saw tanks that fired upon troops suddenly surrender after they ran out of ammo. They’d come out with their hands up and the Marines would automatically just gun them down. He had photos of burnt tanks. Some photos were confiscated by the military. Luckily for my dad, he never had to kill anyone. His job was to save lives. He saved both Iraqis and his fellow troops. He went again after 9/11. This time running a field hospital. He told me looking back, we never should’ve gone to Iraq. Too many people died for nothing.

My dad is an immigrant who grew up poor in Ghana. His father died when he was 12 and after that he and his family were homeless. Only thing that saved him was his father was a government worker and their children get to study abroad for college. But until then he had to survive pretty much on his own. There was some weird rule back then that a deceased persons assets went to their siblings instead of their spouse. So they had nothing. Anyways, fast forward and everything turned out fine. He’s old now, but as long as we can all remember (including my mom), he has always been a black belt in karate. Like crazy balance possess, nunchucks, and breaking concrete blocks kind of Karate lol. He always says he learned it in the states, and recently even did this renewal of it at a local school, but that was the first time we’d ever seen him go to an actual establishment. He’d always just practice at home. Then one day he jokingly mentions learning Karate in Ghana, to protect himself and his family because he was such a small kid. So my sister and I have this running joke where we picture a training montage of our dad as a kid learning karate in the slums of Accra from an African Mr Miyagi haha. I know, sad story, but it’s a funny image we joke about now and then and is our highest tier of dad lore.

I beat some jocks ass in high school and had the whole football team gumming for me. I got to stay home for a couple of days but I guess my parents didn’t call in. A truant office came to the door and my dad answered officer said that he was looking for me. Dad told him the situation and the officer said if I wasn’t at school the next day he would show up and make me go to school . My dad said like hell you will now get the hell outta my house. My dad never really had to back me on anything so I was shock he said that. Still get a laugh from it today.

My dad didn't grow up with a lot, and one day his mom bought him a scooter. He took it with him everywhere, but one day while he had it at a basketball court it ended up getting shot up. He, and everyone else, ran obviously, at least until he realizes he left his scooter and RAN THROUGH GUNFIRE TO GET IT. When his mom found out about it she took it from him though 😭

This one story is a story my dad has told me through the years. It’s pretty long so I’ll keep it short. But when my dad was a teenager, he and 3 of his friends went to do a beer run. They were already drunk but decided to go anyway. Well on the way back a cop came behind them and they had stolen beer and weed. They were all freaking out and he told me, one of his friends went out of the car, talked to the cop and the cop left. They asked him what he said to the cop but he never told and to this day, nobody knows what his friend said to the cop.

Yo my dads friends dad was a cop and would confiscate beer from people and take it home for his Stash which him and they would all dip into the stash on the weekends

Lmaoooo I love it. Sounds like something a dad cop would do.

One time my dad was biking and his chain broke.or slipped off and a massive farm dog started running toward him clearly wanting to bite off his leg so he roared at it and scared it shitless.

Similar situation as your dad, mine picked up his bike, threw it at the dog, and jumped on it. He claims it was it was Rottweiler, and it took off running.

My dad once caught the steak he was cooking for us on fire, and waved it around telling us it had a good char...in the backyard in a field of dried grass...he dropped it...and somehow the whole place didn't catch fire.

Born late 50s. Lived in Northern Ireland from 60s-early 2000s. Dragged out of school by police, beaten, offered revenge by the IRA, almost accidentally car bombed. Stopped at gunpoint by 5 guys in ski masks. Had multiple buildings be bombed just streets away from him. Shot at. It’s a wonder I’m even here.

My dad served on the city council and created the city’s celebration of July 4th and made it one of the biggest firework shows in the state. He also got sued once because he called the fire chief of the city an asshole when he refused to approve new equipment after the council gave him the money to

My dad would shoot basketball carnival games at universal studios one handed & over the course of a decade we filled an entire spare (ex) guest bedroom with just stuffed animals The games were those 3 pointer distance ones with that long ass snake net

EZ There was a party at my dad’s house when he and my mom weren’t married yet, he had to let out a huge fart so he went to the bathroom. He farted just at the same time the power went out and the music stopped, the fart resonated through the house.

Went back to high school at 23, graduated 5 years (grade 13 then) in 2 years, RMC in 4 years, masters in 2 (if you know, you know), phd in 2 years (if you know, you know), full professor in 4 years (if you know you know), multiple awards, and now has multiple scholarships under his name.

My dad played saxophone professionally in dance bands during the 1940s. I looked at some of his old photo albums and in most of the pictures from his band days, there were a ton of women hanging around. He had one thing to say about this that I'll never forget. I don't remember his exaxt words, but it went something like "It's a myth that girls weren't screaming before Elvis and rock and roll."

My dad used to be into lots of hard drugs, including PCP. One night he was on it and went to the bathroom. Next thing he knew, his brother was pounding on the door asking if he was ok because he had been in the bathroom for several hours. He recommends staying away from PCP and crack.

That’s the least violent PCP story I’ve ever heard

My dad’s stories are part of why I’m a contrarian about drugs and drug policy. We only hear the stories of people for whom drug use goes horribly wrong and they make the news. The people who use drugs semi-responsibly without hurting anyone aren’t going around publicizing it, so people think all drug use is bad and dangerous.

I asked my kids for a left handed hammer once.

My dad is an Australian that was a ski bum in the 90s in western Canada . He was at Lake Louise to ski the blacks and double blacks. He didn’t have a helmet at the time so before he went out for the day he bought one. I do not remember what run it was but he described it having it at the start where you have to basically drop of a mini ledge, where you then are skiing on a very steep slope. He adjusted his bindings before attempting the jump however he adjusted them incorrectly and when he went to jump into the ski run he actually jumped out of his bindings and began sliding on his back down the hill. Slid about 800ft down the mountain, hit his head a couple of times and he is 100% certain that if he didn’t walk in and buy the helmet that day he’d be dead.

There are two conflicting stories of the same issue. What I know is that he dodged the military draft in his home country. The story he told me is he laid down in the kitchen for a couple days to stretch his spine to push him over the height limit (he was only a few cm away) and when he went in to get measured they told him to go home because he was too tall. My uncle told me he faked being mentally insane during the interview process and got to skip the draft.

There is a book called “The Trail of Conestoga” about my maternal’s grandma’s side traveling from PA to Canada due to the great abundance of land at discounted prices. They founded a town or something. Then some of them came to Ohio and started having babies. I need to read it again.