Life in WV
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From: Fraziers Bottom, WV
Life in WV
Life as a child growing up in West Virginia...
Around age 10 my dad got me one of those little 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.
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 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. 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, 1 lb. of Pyrodex and 16 oz. of ether
should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know?
You know what? Heck with 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 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 what the heck 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 FRICKING DAYLIGHT
TURNED PURPLE. There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the
pasture. Notice I said "was". That darn thing 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 was 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 complaining 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 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.
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 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. 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, 1 lb. of Pyrodex and 16 oz. of ether
should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know?
You know what? Heck with 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 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 what the heck 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 FRICKING DAYLIGHT
TURNED PURPLE. There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the
pasture. Notice I said "was". That darn thing 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 was 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 complaining 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.
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