I just read a post that clearly demonstrates just ‘how’ boring…

So, I’m going to share it with you.

The Man of Steel Story

As a child, we all idolize our parents in some form or another. Be it mannerisms, speech patterns or behaviors, for good or for bad we learn most of what we will ever learn from the environment we grow up in.

My dad was and always will be my hero and mentor. The fact he has been gone for over eight years doesn’t diminish the impact he had in my formative years. In fact, if I had to blame anyone, I would say the steady diet of Rambo movies we watched together and the fact he shared my love of comic books but secretly would never tell anyone despite the fact I knew he read them especially when he would put them back in the wrong order or subtly try to influence what I would pick up on new comic day were the largest contributing factor into my not so minimal hero complex. He too was a run to the rescue kind of guy.

As much as I often dreaded the Saturday mornings he would ask me to go to work with him when I was growing up, as I got older I began to understand it was just as much as excuse to spend time with me as it was anything else. A reason I myself would use later on as my kids got older. Once they realized they actually got paid to spend time with me they asked much more frequently to come to work with me.

I relented the one weekend and let them both come with me. My son, who by now was as big as any of my guys yet ten years younger, went with my brother and the rest of the team to finish up a small job and clean up a job site and I took my daughter with me to set up a very small cottage job. On the way there, the material delivery driver called to say he would be late showing up. I figured that gave me plenty of time to get the job started before the rest of the team showed up. I got my ladder set up and started removing the shingles before I saw my daughters head poke up over the edge of the roof.

Now, I know what you’re thinking and yes I am a terrible parent. I let her up on the roof with me. You have to understand she wasn’t going to be denied in that arms crossed over her chest, head tilted down, looking just over the top of her glasses, scowling kind of way and I really can’t say no to her. She was even more mad that I wouldn’t let her use a nail gun and actually put shingles on but I had to draw the line somewhere. I would have rather let her try to juggle flaming chain saws than have her shoot herself with one of those.

The rest of the team had shown up by this point and we were still waiting for the delivery driver. The sun had come out and turned what was once a hard packed driveway into a soupy mess and I was worried about getting my trailer stuck on the way out with it loaded down. A couple of phone calls later and we heard the crane truck rumbling down the small road. With a shake of my head at the lateness of the delivery, I watched as the five ton truck pulled into the driveway, swerved around my truck and promptly slid off the edge of the driveway and sunk up to the top of the tires into the swampy ground.

” You have got to be fucking kidding me!,” I exclaimed as I flew down the ladder to survey the damage. The truck was way overloaded with weight as not only did it have my material  but over three tons of concrete for another delivery.  My daughter was on the ground and I   walked over sure she wasn’t anywhere near the truck when they tried to move it. As I walked her away from the driveway, she looked back over her shoulder and summed the situation up quite nicely.

” Yep, they’re fucked,” She said as she reached out and took my hand. I stopped dead in my tracks and did the only thing I could. I laughed my ass off and high-fived her. Hey, its my job site not Sunday School.

I backed my large truck up and attached a couple of tow ropes to the nose of the slowly sinking truck. Using some boards I had from another job and slid them as far as we could under the tires to help with traction. With a deep sigh, I slid behind the wheel of my truck as my daughter climbed into the passenger’s seat. Her eyes were expectant and I wasn’t sure I could pull this one off. We had unloaded as much of the material as we could but the truck was still massive and very stuck. With a rumble of the engine behind me and I howl of my own engine, I snapped my truck into four-wheel drive and buried the pedal.

With a squeal of smoking tires and a groan of the tow rope, the truck shifted slightly. It wasn’t working. I turned and looked at my daughter and told her to roll down her window.

“If they would give it some fucking gas it might come out,” I sighed as I rubbed my palm on my face. Without missing a beat my daughter stuck her head out the window.

” My dad says give it some fucking gas!” she yelled.

The delivery driver busted out laughing and waved at her. I just shook my head and floored the gas again. The truck shifted and with a shuddering heave and clods of flying muck we pulled it free and out to the main road.  My daughter laughed and we high-fived again.  She called my wife at that point to come pick her up. She had enough for one day and the real excitement was over. She was bursting to tell the story and over a few tellings like all stories it became bigger. By the time she made it to school on Monday I actually think she was telling people I pulled the truck out with my bare hands. I didn’t do anything to discourage her because it’s not like many kids have dads that pull trucks out of the mud bare handed or dressed like this –


Reblogged from: The Things I See Up Here