LIFE AS A CHILD GROWING UP IN TEXAS
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 into anything that could get stuck by an arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farmall tractor will take 6 rounds before it goes down? Tough sumbitch.
That got boring, so being the 10 yr. old Dukes of Hazzard fan that I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut up T-shirts doused in chainsaw gas tied around the end of my arrows, and was soon 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 to the carport and saw 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. Hey, let's face it, to a 10yr 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 just a little bit around the Ether can but it all sorta dumped out on me. No biggie, a 1 lb. Pyrodex and 16oz. of Ether should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker, you know? Hah! 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 on the stump, too. Now we're cookin'.
I stepped back about 15 feet and lit the 2 stroke arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and took aim. As I released, I heard a loud clunk. And the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time frame, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck...OH SHIT! 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 of Ether. 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 can of starting fluid right at the bottom. Right through the main pile of Pyrodex and into the can. Oh. Shit.
When the shock wave hit me, it knocked me off my feet. I don't know if it was the actual compression wave that threw me back or just a reflexive jerk back from 235 decibels of sound. I caught a half-millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion, and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs all hovering 1 foot 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 TURNED PURPLE.
There was a big sweet gum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said was. That sumbitch 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, DAMMIT, CEASE FIRE!!
His hat has blown off and is 30 feet behind him in the driveway. All the windows on the north side of the house are blown out and there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud up to about 2000 feet over our backyard. There is a Honda 185s 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'm sure I said something. But see, I couldn't hear. I couldn't hear inside my own head. I don't think he heard me either... not that it would've really mattered. 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.
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 into anything that could get stuck by an arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farmall tractor will take 6 rounds before it goes down? Tough sumbitch.
That got boring, so being the 10 yr. old Dukes of Hazzard fan that I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut up T-shirts doused in chainsaw gas tied around the end of my arrows, and was soon 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 to the carport and saw 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. Hey, let's face it, to a 10yr 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 just a little bit around the Ether can but it all sorta dumped out on me. No biggie, a 1 lb. Pyrodex and 16oz. of Ether should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker, you know? Hah! 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 on the stump, too. Now we're cookin'.
I stepped back about 15 feet and lit the 2 stroke arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and took aim. As I released, I heard a loud clunk. And the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time frame, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck...OH SHIT! 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 of Ether. 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 can of starting fluid right at the bottom. Right through the main pile of Pyrodex and into the can. Oh. Shit.
When the shock wave hit me, it knocked me off my feet. I don't know if it was the actual compression wave that threw me back or just a reflexive jerk back from 235 decibels of sound. I caught a half-millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion, and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs all hovering 1 foot 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 TURNED PURPLE.
There was a big sweet gum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said was. That sumbitch 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, DAMMIT, CEASE FIRE!!
His hat has blown off and is 30 feet behind him in the driveway. All the windows on the north side of the house are blown out and there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud up to about 2000 feet over our backyard. There is a Honda 185s 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'm sure I said something. But see, I couldn't hear. I couldn't hear inside my own head. I don't think he heard me either... not that it would've really mattered. 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.
