Random Dad Inventions: Honoring the Best Father Ever

My heart smiles as I remember the dad-isms
and random inventions my father came up
with over the 90+ years of his life.

I do this memory thing  every June when we get close to the day to celebrate Fathers.

We lost our precious Father 3 years ago.

All my adult life I’ve lived 2000 miles from my parents

and I don’t think I ever was with dad on Father’s Day after I moved out of his house.

That’s a sad thing to think about.

But the years I lived in his house

will never be forgotten.

Because those years influenced the very essence of who I am today –

what I think about and value (God, family, politics. Well, maybe not the last so much. Lol.)

my quirkiness (not all bad to be a daddy’s girl, right?)

the tendency to invent useless things.

 

 

Random Dad Inventions

that our father came up with over the years:

• A Winter Grill Cover

  for his car (this brand is popular now).
  This was a large piece of cardboard which he wired, boarded, jerry-rigged in any fashion possible, to the front grill of his car. To drive through the blustery, frigid winter weather and keep the car warm inside. Because no matter what anyone says in this modern day, when the winds top 50 and the temps dip below -30, a grill cover helps. You may ask why he would drive in that sort of weather. Well, if you knew my dad, you knew he a) loved a challenge, and b) couldn’t stay home for long.
  .

  

• Driving On Empty

  was another car thing he perfected. This coincided with his love of a challenge and his strong, fearless approach to life. Running out of gas in the middle of Podunk, Nowhere, was all part of life’s adventures. As an accepted pattern of life, he would ride 30 miles with strangers to the nearest gas station to buy a gallon of gas, then hitch a ride back to the car where Mom tranquilly knitted and waited (she had to fish or cut bait with that man of hers).
  He hummed as he poured the gas in the tank that got them to said next town, where by then they’d have to stay overnight in the 60s style motel to wait for the station to open to fill the gas tank. When I say fill, that’s not to say the tank was topped. If he knew the next town had gas for 5 cents a gallon cheaper, he would put in just enough to get there.
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• The Not-Dave-Ramsey Money Management Plan.

  I don’t even know where to start with this one. We grew up thinking our dad was rich. We had all the food we needed, a warm roof over our heads, days filled with fun and adventure, and absolute feelings of security. Our dad would take care of us.
  It wasn’t until later, when I needed my first car, for example, that I discovered his absolute need to save every cent he could. He financed my car purchase, and he didn’t buy used cars. So he went to his buddy the car dealer, and brought me a tiny 2 door, 4 on the floor, bare-bones get-me-to-work-and-back set of wheels. The glove compartment didn’t even have a cover, just a little nook for stashing stuff. Which was dangerous, because he never considered that I might not know how to drive a stick very well, and jerky starts were my MO. I loved that car. And couldn’t figure out why the guys laughed when I came around. (One called it a washing machine on wheels. Sigh.)
  So Dave Ramsey he wasn’t, but we kids thought we had Rich Dad.

 

 

• The Automated Chicken-Feed Bag Filler.

  My dad had ten children and a chicken farm. He loved having his children around him as he worked. In the early days we grew a barn full of baby chicks every year, which got moved to a layer barn when they started producing eggs. He had a shed beside the chick barn where he and his brother built a mini feed mill. The grain went through the grinding mill powered by his John Deere flywheel, and came out the other end ready for bagging. His “automatic” response was, “Laurie! Lorna! Dorothy!” and one of us would stand and roll the top of a gunny sack over our hands and hold it open for him to shovel the feed in. Automated. Powered by children. The best parenting plan ever, making a child feel needed.

 

 

 

The Best Father Ever

I could go on, but you surely have a feel by now of the sort of inventions my Dad produced.