So a few years ago, Dad had a little Chevy S-10 pickup that he bought from my beloved Uncle Don (the one with the wooden leg that we called "Old Knock Knock.") Dad was so proud of that thing.
One day when he came home, he discovered a huge dent in the left rear panel. It didn't crack the paint, but it was a big booger and had him cussing his head off. He was so despondent, I took the initiative and
went to an auto parts store, where I found a heavy duty, dual suction cup thingy that promised to remove dents. I brought it home and Dad & I went to work.
We stood next to the truck in the front yard and attached the thingy. Dad pulled on it until I thought he would have a coronary. Red in the face, cussing like a cross between a cowboy and a sailor, sweating buckets. He took a break to I tried it, and became a miniature version of him. On our third try, Dad got behind me to pull me while I pulled it. I put my feet up on the side of the truck for leverage and we were both grunting and cussing straining for dear life for what seemed like an eternity.
The dent finally popped out, sending both of us flying ass over elbows into the yard. I landed on top of Dad and knocked all of the wind out of him, but we were both laughing so hard we were crying. Covered with dirt and leaves and sweat, we did a little dance of triumph, which we were prone to do from time to time anyway.
Nice to remember the good stuff.