My guess it was administered by the right foot of your father.
Mine was handed out by a Korean war vet, high school and college football standout (fullback AND punter) who was about 255 at the time.
I sure do miss him.
In the interest of accuracy, it was my grampa, he actually one handed me like a sack of grain then chucked me under a draft horse while explaining the horse was tethered and depended on me for his breakfast. We lived with my grampa because my dad was sick and unemployed. Grampa was a big guy with hands like hams. His formal education ended at the third grade as he was needed to help support his family. While he may not have been a studied man of letters, he could scale a stand of timber or divine the yield of a field with the accuracy of a computer. He ran several successful businesses and served as high sheriff for years.
I miss both he and my dad. I learned so much from both of them, they were as different as night and day.