Thursday, February 24, 2011

Archery is good for the younguns

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 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). 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 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.
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. can of Pyrodex and 16oz Ether should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know? You know what? Fuck that, I'm going backYeah baby, 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 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. 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. Oh Shit.
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 frickin' 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 3 feet 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 FUCKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE.
There was a big sweet gum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said "was". That son-of-a-bitch got up and ran off.
So here I am, on the ground blown completely out of my shoes with my Colt Firearms 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 CEASE FIRE!!
His hat has blown off and is 30 feet 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.

No, this isn't a true life story. I got it from www.orsm.net and even though he's a fucking Aussie, he's got a great sense of humor. I steal a lot of shit from him.....

3 comments:

rpm2day said...

My shed and trash barrels are all peppered with arrow holes. Happened shortly after I gave my youngest a bow.....

Zilla/MJ said...

I liked this story so much that I read it to my husband. He'll probably be shopping around for archery sets for our 3 & 6 year olds very soon.

Beaner said...

Awesome, My favorite was arrow roulette.

Not so much with bow and arrows but My grandpa had 9mm tracers and we used to take them and put them on the end of our bb guns and shhot the primers to set the rounds off shooting them at each other. What fucking aewsome times.

My Dad always had Jack Daniels Bottles laying around so my friend Kieth and I make Molotov Cocktails and get up on the roof of my house. As we lit and I threw the first one my Mom came home early from her business and i let the cocktail fly as she turned down owr driveway on our farm. We jumped off the roofs like Paratroopers and beat feet to the woods that night. I knew i was getting beat by my old man.