I'd like to hear your best funny redneck story about yourself.
Now you northern folks, go ahead and post, living in the south is a privilege not a right.

Kind of a Redneck/Jeep story. One summer a couple years out of college I decided to visit my 2nd-year roommate in northern Illinois, about 250 miles away. I drove up the interstate in my '64 CJ and stayed with him for a week or so. By the time I was on the way home there was just enough cash left for gasoline. About 150 miles from home the fan belt broke. I got a piece of parachute cord from the toolbox, wrapped it about three times around the pulleys, tied it nice and tight, and drove the rest of the way home. Still short of cash and out of a job at the time, I drove it another week or two before accumulating funds for a new belt.

In a similar vein, a buddy broke the rear axel on his Harley on the way down to Daytona. He went into a hardware store and got a piece of 1/2" all-thread, cut it to length and replaced the axel with it. That got him to Florida, but he was too tight to buy a new axel, so it got him home again. And then he rode it like that for another TWO YEARS! And it didn't break! If a made-for-the-job factory axel made from special steel breaks, how could he expect a piece of hardware store thread-rod to hold up? Luckiest S.O.B. I know!

Long, long time ago. Out wheeling with friends. One of the guys put a stick through the radiator. We pulled the stick, crimped the tubes, and looked for some replacement liquid. All we had was beer....what a waste of good beer. The option to "recycle" the beer before use came up, but it was getting late and we didn't want to have to "wait out the buzz" before driving again.

Like I said, I was a lot younger then....

In the mid-70's I made a trip to Houston with my wife, kids, and Mom & Dad. We left for our return trip to Indiana about midnight on a Sunday night. Driving up Hwy. 59 between Houston and Texarkana, with me driving of course, I hit a concrete block in the middle of the highway. It knocked a big hole in the gas tank of our '72 Caprice. It was about 2:30 a.m. and no repair shops open. We stopped at a closed gas station, found a piece of 2"X4", drove it into the hole in the gas tank effectively closing the hole. We drove to Indiana with no further leaks. I worried the entire way that I'd hit a railroad crossing with piece of wood sticking out of the tank and rip the entire tank off. Dad was pretty innovative.

A similar story: When I was working in Anchorage in the '80s a friend took me on Memorial Day weekend to the gold mine he and his brother ran in Dawson, Yukon Territory. We left Friday morning in another companion's Dodge van and drove all day, most of it over gravel roads. Late in the afternoon we got to Boundary Alaska near the Canadian border. We stopped for gas knowing that it would be more expensive in Canada. As we walked around the van stretching our legs, someone said "Uh oh!" There was a pencil-sized hole in the tank and a stream of gas was running out. A tire had kicked up a rock somewhere in the last few miles.

Boundary consisted of a service station/garage/general store/post office/bar, and about three houses. We were screwed. Even if there was a new tank in Anchorage it couldn't get to Boundary before Tuesday afternoon, and we all had to be back at work Tuesday morning. About that time an came stumbling and shuffling out of the garage. He was the prototype of an Alaskan bush-dweller - big thick boots, dirty coveralls, heavy jacket with a plaid shirt collar hanging out, full beard stained with Beechnut dribble, a ruddy complexion, hunter's cap with the ear flaps flapping, and all surrounded by a haze of old booze fumes and stale tobacco smoke.

"Whasha matter?" he enquired. We showed him the stream of gasoline soaking into the gravel. "Peesh o' cake!" he slurred as he slowly straightened up and stumbled towards the garage. In a couple of minutes he was back with the biggest Tek screw I'd ever seen and a greasy ratchet. He jammed the screw into the hole, cranked the ratchet for a few seconds and slid back out from under. "Good f'rever!" he slurred, and shuffled back into the garage.

We finished the trip to Dawson, had a great time panning for gold - I collected over an ounce - went in to town on Saturday night, and drove home without incident Monday. Years later I asked my buddy about that screw. He said that it lasted three years until he traded the van in, and had never leaked.

While driving a VW in a dry wash near Split Mountain, CA I hit a rock and knocked the drain plug out of the transaxle. Got a ranger to tow me to Ocotillo Wells which was just a small service station at the time. Carved a plug from a branch on a bush and drove it in. Guy at the station rumaged around until he found some 80 weight oil and a pump, filled it up and spent the rest of the weekend driving around before going home

Maybe I'm a little to red. These all sound like pretty good innovation to me. Except, Randy, Randy, a true redneck would have drank the beer and then wizzed in the radiator. I mean we're talkin time vs wastin a brew. I'll post one or two stories on myself, when I have more time to type.

1- It was Coors Light....

2- Even as a dumb kid I knew not to drink and drive.

3- Don't worry, we still had plenty of beer left for when we got home....

1. Pee is better for your engine than coors light. You know better than to put tap water in your radiator.

2. But not smart enough to realize silver bullets are for werewolves, not humans.

3. Your term "beer" means that you had something other than Coors light, that you were not willing to sacrifice: Ok, you are forgiven.....

Oh ,man, too many to list....

My little brother and I were going to tech school in Waco to get our automotive mechanics degrees, We drove home on weekends (2 hour drive) and were on our way back to school on a Sunday. About 30 minutes into the drive it started raining cats and dogs, Flicked the wipers and they went out. We pulled over at a convenience store and checked the motor, it was gone. We removed the motor and tied our shoe laces to the wiper blades and ran them in through the vent windows. He would pull his to pull the wipers up and I would pull mine to pull them back down....worked like a champ

Same school different weekend, left with a buddy in his VW Bug to go to San Antonio with him for the weekend. I little into the trip we lost all power and the gas pedal fell to the floor in his VW. Looked and the accerlerator cable had broken. VW cable runs under the floor pan. I once again broke out the handy shoe lace and tied the throttle open on the carb. It was hell when we were stopped because it was revved pretty high, but on the highway it held us right at 60 worked like a charm....

Shoe laces are your friend.....

Same school. I lived in a travel trailer while I was there in school and I was young, dumb,....... and in this instance drunk, we had been drinking and it was time to go to bed and the damn heater fan in the trailer was squeeling like a stuck pig and it was keeping me awake and it finally frustrated the hell out of me, I stumbled over to the the heater and unscrewed the little window off the heater and looked in, i could see the fan wheel, I grabbed a can of WD-40 and sprayed it on the wheel just as I realized there is a pilot light in there, whooosh, mini- blow torch and my eyebrows and mustache gone....that was probably one of the dumbest things I ever did, but is funny when I look back at it now....