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Every family has that one eccentric relative. Ours was Uncle Jerry, but the kids called him .
From then on, Uncle Pantyhose kept a spare pair in his glove compartment, right next to the duct tape and a half-eaten bag of beef jerky. He’d patch radiator hoses, splint bird wings, and once even made a sling for the neighbor’s dog. At Thanksgiving, he’d pass the mashed potatoes and say, “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it—pantyhose saved my life on I-95.” uncle pantyhose
Not because he wore them—though he did, under his baggy hiking shorts on cold mornings. No, he earned the nickname the day he used a pair of mom's sheer tights to fix a broken fan belt on his rusty Ford Escort. “Nylon’s stronger than steel,” he’d grunt, tying a knot with nicotine-stained fingers. Every family has that one eccentric relative