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 Farmall tractor tire will take 6 rounds before
it goes down?
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). The 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. Let's
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.
Yes, 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 sh*t! 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 WTF 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.
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 FRICKING DAYLIGHT
There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the pasture.
Notice I said "was". That sob 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. DAMNIT
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.
Limitations are but boundaries created inside our minds.