Death of a /6

When my parents bought their 1967 New Yorker, I was helping my dad diagnose a problem with the old '57 Ford Fairlane at the curb. I was only in junior high at the time. I was standing in the street, feet apart about 2 feet, and leaning over the front left fender trying to pinpoint a noise in the six cylinder Ford. My dad, standing in front of the car, tached the engine a couple of times. Suddenly, I saw a big black spot appear on the side of the block followed by a 'bang'. A white spot appeared on the asphalt between my feet where the rod ricocheted. The rod disappeared somewhere in the field across the street. The engine clanged to a stop. My dad busted out laughing when he saw the size of my eyeballs (and that I still had my other two balls). We had a good laugh about it this summer, just about three months before he passed away.