Jump to content
SASS Wire Forum

Archery, BP, gasoline and a ten year old


Recommended Posts

:FlagAm: Subject: Archery, black powder, gasoline and a ten year old Oklahoma kid

 

I have to tell you.....I truly miss my childhood years.....a lot !!

 

 

 

If you don’t chuckle while reading this . . . .

 

 

 

 

 

Oklahoma Kid's first Bow and Arrow set.

 

 

 

Don’t know who wrote this but he has a way with words that makes

 

one visualize being right there beside him. Good read

 

 

 

Life as a child growing up in Oklahoma...

 

 

 

Around age 10 my dad got me one of those little badass compound

 

bow beginner kits. Of course, the first month I went around our

 

land sticking arrows in anything that could get stuck by an

 

arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farm all tractor tire

 

will take 6 rounds before it goes down? Tough “sumbich”.

 

 

 

That got boring, so being the 10 yr. old Dukes of Hazard fan

 

that I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut up

 

T-shirt doused in chainsaw gas tied around the end and was

 

sending flaming arrows all over the place.

 

 

 

One summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large

 

rotten oak stump in our backyard. I looked over under the

 

carport and see a shiny brand new can of starting fluid (Ether).

 

 

 

A light bulb went off in my head.

 

 

 

I grabbed the can and set it on the stump. I thought that it

 

would probably just spray out in a disappointing manner. Lets

 

face it, to a 10 yr old mouth-breather like myself, (Ether),

 

really doesn't "sound" flammable.

 

 

 

So, I went back into the house and got a 1 pound can of Pyrodex

 

(black powder for muzzle loader rifles).

 

 

 

At this point, I set the can of ether on the stump and opened up

 

the can of black powder.

 

 

 

My intentions were to sprinkle a little bit around the (Ether)

 

can but it all sorta dumped out on me. No biggie, a 1 lb.

 

pyrodex and 16 oz (Ether) should make a loud pop, kinda like a

 

firecracker you know?

 

 

 

You know what? Screw that I'm going back in the house for the

 

other can, so I got a second can of Pyrodex and dumped it too.

 

Now we're cookin'.

 

 

 

I stepped back about 15 ft and lit the 2 stroke arrow. I drew

 

the nock to my cheek and took aim. As I released I heard a

 

clunk as the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time

 

frame, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck... OH

 

SHOOT! He just got home from work.

 

 

 

So help me God it took 10 minutes for that arrow to go from my

 

bow to the can. My dad was walking towards me in slow motion

 

with a XXX look in his eyes.

 

 

 

I turned back towards my target just in time to see the arrow

 

pierce the starting fluid can right at the bottom. Right

 

through the main pile of Pyrodex and into the can. Oh shoot.

 

When the shock wave hit it knocked me off my feet. I don't know

 

if it was the actual compression wave that threw me back or just

 

reflex jerk back from 235 fricking decibels of sound. I caught

 

a half a millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial

 

explosion and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs

 

all hovering 1 ft above the ground as far as I could see.

 

It was like a little low to the ground layer of dust fog full of

 

grasshoppers, spiders, and a worm or two.

 

 

 

The daylight turned purple. Let me repeat this... THE COTTON

 

PICKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE.

 

 

 

There was a big sweet gum tree out by the gate going into the

 

pasture. Notice I said "was". That sucker got up and ran off.

 

 

 

So here I am, on the ground blown completely out of my shoes

 

with my Thundercats T-Shirt shredded, my dad is on the other

 

side of the carport, having what I can only assume is, a Vietnam

 

flashback: ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE YOU'RE BRINGIN' EM IN TOO

 

 

 

CLOSE!! CEASE FIRE. DAMN IT CEASE FIRE!!!!!

 

 

 

His hat has blown off and is 30 ft behind him in the driveway.

 

All windows on the north side of the house are blown out and

 

there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud about 2000 ft. over our

 

backyard.

 

 

 

There is a Honda 185 3 wheeler parked on the other side of the

 

yard and the fenders are drooped down and are now touching the

 

tires.

 

 

 

I wish I knew what I said to my dad at this moment. I don't

 

know - I know I said something. I couldn't hear. I couldn't

 

hear inside my own head.

 

 

 

I don't think he heard me either... not that it would really

 

matter. I don't remember much from this point on.

 

 

 

I said something, felt a sharp pain, and then woke up later. I

 

felt a sharp pain, blacked out, woke later....repeat this

 

process for an hour or so and you get the idea.

 

 

 

I remember at one point my mom had to give me CPR. and Dad

 

screaming "Bring him back to life so I can kill him again".

 

Thanks Mom.

 

 

 

One thing is for sure... I never had to mow around that stump

 

again.

 

 

 

Mom had been bitching about that thing for years and dad never

 

did anything about it. I stepped up to the plate and handled

 

business.

 

 

 

Dad sold his muzzle loader a week or so later. I still have some

 

sort of bone growth abnormality, either from the blast or the

 

beating, or both.

 

 

 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, get your kids into archery.

 

It's good discipline and will teach them skills they can use

 

later on in life.

 

 

 

Author Unknown

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I learned to not shoot a 22 rifle into the lid of a can of yellow enamel paint, laying on it's side with the lid facing me, in much the same way.

 

No explosion but 65 years later there are places around the old home place that are still yellow.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ah, kind of reminds me of my misspent youth. One 4th of July I was at a buddy's house, his parents were away at the bar, as usual. We had laid in a supply of bottle rockets so we divvied them up between two teams and set to having a bottle rocket war in the pasture.

 

My buddy who lived there was on my team, well after a while we ran low on bottle rockets, so we slipped into the garage to re-arm. The best we could come up with was mini Molotov cocktails using baby food jars or some such.

 

We had great fun, but spent much of the rest of the evening making sure the fires were out, picking up glass, and tracking down his sisters horse who had jumped the fence.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kids?.........hell..............I ruined one of my good SASS shirts about two years ago having a bottle rocket war with my brother!

 

.....it hit......stuck.......and blew a nice hole in my shirt!

 

:lol:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.