Origins of Big Fin's childhood book
- Thread starter Big Fin
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Addicting
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Parts of 5 gallon buckets fly pretty high up in the air with black powder compressed in a 2” metal tube. Just in case you were wondering.
Launched a full size truck tire and rim skyward once with a quarter stick. Went almost treetop high, came down square on top of a power line and bowed it down then was launched back up before finally hitting the ground. Also used to shoot my BB gun at the primer of shotgun shells set on top of a fence post.
LuketheDog
Well-known member
Great story Randy! My best friend and I had free access to blackpowder and/or explosives all the time without even having to steal it, although our parents were also kept mostly in the dark. The workers on the horse ranch his dad managed would bring us back sacks of fireworks from Mexico whenever they went home to visit and encourage us to have fun with them, they even helped us put out a number of the fires we started! There were "firecrackers" nearly as long as our forearms that would blow a 6" fence post in half, and we also found that harvesting the powder from them and placing it in bigger receptacles made bigger fun, I don't know how we didn't maim or kill ourselves. The only times I recall we really got in trouble was when we blew up the mailbox with the mail in it, when we literally liquidated his dad's giant pumpkin (took both of us to roll it away from the garden first), when we lit the haystack on fire trying to make irrigation pipe into mortar tubes, and when we tried to blow up the neighbor's abandoned home-built bomb shelter (we didn't have nearly enough powder for that)...those were the days!
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Johnny Bravo
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I might need to pass this though ChatGPT to see what happens…I love Randy’s storytelling..
duckhunt
Well-known member
Sure brings back alot of memories growing up in a small midwest town.
Great story. Kids these days will never know the feeling of pure freedom derived from negligent parenting.
My best friend tells the story of when he was 10 and his older brothers would let him watch them build and detonate pipe bombs. He decides to build his own one day out of a ten-inch section of one inch metal water pipe with metal caps and filled with smokeless powder. Of course, his brothers would drive off into the forest to blow things up, but he didn't drive so he had to hike up the hill behind the house.
He said he learned a valuable lesson that day. When you think you are far enough away from the neighbor's house, you need to go another quarter mile. Blew every window out on the back side of the neighbor's house. People were not happy.
Another friend liked to make pipe bombs as a kid, but didn't have access to gun powder. So, he would just scrape the ends of matches until he had enough explosive for a small bomb. One day he had a nice pile of improvised explosives going when the match he was scraping ignited, which intern ignited the pile.
He thinks his mom might have believed his story about his face being burnt from by being out in the sun too long if it weren't for the fact that he no longer had eyebrows.
A guy I was in the army with tells the story of when he was a kid someone told him you could make a blow torch with just a match and a can of hair spray. So, he went into the bathroom, took a can of his mother's hair spray and gave it a try. The fire department got there in time to prevent a total loss.
My best friend tells the story of when he was 10 and his older brothers would let him watch them build and detonate pipe bombs. He decides to build his own one day out of a ten-inch section of one inch metal water pipe with metal caps and filled with smokeless powder. Of course, his brothers would drive off into the forest to blow things up, but he didn't drive so he had to hike up the hill behind the house.
He said he learned a valuable lesson that day. When you think you are far enough away from the neighbor's house, you need to go another quarter mile. Blew every window out on the back side of the neighbor's house. People were not happy.
Another friend liked to make pipe bombs as a kid, but didn't have access to gun powder. So, he would just scrape the ends of matches until he had enough explosive for a small bomb. One day he had a nice pile of improvised explosives going when the match he was scraping ignited, which intern ignited the pile.
He thinks his mom might have believed his story about his face being burnt from by being out in the sun too long if it weren't for the fact that he no longer had eyebrows.
A guy I was in the army with tells the story of when he was a kid someone told him you could make a blow torch with just a match and a can of hair spray. So, he went into the bathroom, took a can of his mother's hair spray and gave it a try. The fire department got there in time to prevent a total loss.
Straight Arrow
Well-known member
During the Fabulous Fifties, as boys on our bikes riding all over Great Falls, Montana, and splashing up and down the Missouri, we felt free as birds ... "just be home before the street lights come on!"
After the impressive fireworks at the end of each night show at the State Fair, there were explosive powder pucks laying all over. We would go to the fairgrounds, check the pay phone booths for loose change for ice cream, then go collect the valuable powder pucks. We filled a paper shopping bag full of explosives, then rode back to our neighborhood and sat on the grass behind Charlie Russell's old studio to plot the scheme to blow something up. On the corner across the street was the journalism teacher's large home and an open alleyway. Deciding to make a cannon out of his large garbage can in the back, we headed over to set the explosives. Sealing the bag and wrapping in paper, we set it afire and ran back behind the garage. The pyro plan worked ... as there was a deafening explosion ... and to our amazement, the garbage can launched into the air flying twenty feet up and then crashing with another loud metallic bang. Out of the house back door came the journalism teacher ... spouting expletives he would never put to print! By that time we were running for our lives, fearing his wrath and the prospect of completing our school years in reform school.
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mn taxidermist
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You need to tell your physics story about Boyer Lievsay
44hunter45
Well-known member
What a great read.
It sparked many memories of misadventures with my own cousins in the Sierra Nevada foothills.
Those were great times to be a boy, if you survived with all your eyes and fingers.
My cousin Kemit and I wanted to be movie stunt men, we practiced by taking turns "shooting" each other and taking falls off the shed roof or "dying" and rolling down an embankment. It is a miracle no bones were broken.
We were free range until we heard the pickup horn calling us in for dinner.
Our IED experience was using pilfered black powder to "blast" in the tunnel fort we had made in an empty lot. We had it in a Wonder Bread bag. The only result was four boys without eyebrows. More of a "Whoosh" and than a "BANG".
We were allowed to have camp outs on our property. No campfire was complete without a few rifle shells tossed in to cook off. Well crimped rifle shells work the best. 22LR just doesn't have enough powder for a good bang, paper or plastic shotgun shells often burned from the payload end before the primer cooked off. Still, a 209 makes a nice bang.
BB Gun fights? Yes. It was the height of the cold war and the Ruskies were coming any day. This was 15 years before John Milius' original "Red Dawn", but we war gamed regularly and our pecking order was our chain of command. The canyon and hill behind the school were dug out with foxholes. I wonder now what the landowner thought caused all those.
Family reunions meant as many as 20 males under the age of 16 having dirt clod fights. If it was Easter the ground was wet enough to pull up a tuft of grass with the soggy roots. Those hurt like hell when they hit you. Then you got a swat or two because your fancy Easter outfit had a big mud stain on it. That hurt too, because you took your whooping in front of the whole family. Your folks having to prove they were good parents and all.
It sparked many memories of misadventures with my own cousins in the Sierra Nevada foothills.
Those were great times to be a boy, if you survived with all your eyes and fingers.
My cousin Kemit and I wanted to be movie stunt men, we practiced by taking turns "shooting" each other and taking falls off the shed roof or "dying" and rolling down an embankment. It is a miracle no bones were broken.
We were free range until we heard the pickup horn calling us in for dinner.
Our IED experience was using pilfered black powder to "blast" in the tunnel fort we had made in an empty lot. We had it in a Wonder Bread bag. The only result was four boys without eyebrows. More of a "Whoosh" and than a "BANG".
We were allowed to have camp outs on our property. No campfire was complete without a few rifle shells tossed in to cook off. Well crimped rifle shells work the best. 22LR just doesn't have enough powder for a good bang, paper or plastic shotgun shells often burned from the payload end before the primer cooked off. Still, a 209 makes a nice bang.
BB Gun fights? Yes. It was the height of the cold war and the Ruskies were coming any day. This was 15 years before John Milius' original "Red Dawn", but we war gamed regularly and our pecking order was our chain of command. The canyon and hill behind the school were dug out with foxholes. I wonder now what the landowner thought caused all those.
Family reunions meant as many as 20 males under the age of 16 having dirt clod fights. If it was Easter the ground was wet enough to pull up a tuft of grass with the soggy roots. Those hurt like hell when they hit you. Then you got a swat or two because your fancy Easter outfit had a big mud stain on it. That hurt too, because you took your whooping in front of the whole family. Your folks having to prove they were good parents and all.
44hunter45
Well-known member
Aquanet is your friend
Or not. Careful where you point that thing!
Addicting
Well-known member
When I was 18 you could still get an explosive license by merely going to the state police post and having a 5 min background ran. Then it was directly off to anyone on the list who was licensed to sell.
My Dad and I had a great time hiding behind trees in the woods blowing stump up in the air. It was the “road” we had to build to get the back of the 40. At least that is what we told mom.
After a logging operation we had a 250ish year old red oak stump in our way. It was solid, 4’-5’ across, and firmly grown in blue clay.
We were able to buy gallon milk jugs of a blue crystal. I don’t know what the actual name was, dad just called it potent. It was what was used when they blew a farm pond.
So 3 stick of Dynamite on each corner of a triangle around the stump over the top of 1 gallon in each hole. Should be enough to lift it out of the hole and split it. Dad got a deal on lit fuse vs electric caps so we did our set up, timed it, lit it, and moved 1/4 mile and waited. Nothing for what seemed to be forever. We snuck close enough to see the fuse still smoldering and backed out for the day.
The next day we were worried about water infiltration and the viability of the unexploded dynamite. So along side each of the 3 holes a stick and a half was placed to ensure detonation. We used an electric caps and ran the wire. We only had 500’ or so of wire. So we parked the tractor and hid underneath it when he touched the battery terminals.
The ground shook violently and to our amazement we saw the stump headed towards the heavens. Clay chunks the size of soft balls started hitting all around us. We dove for cover and prayed the stump wouldn’t land on the tractor. It rained clay for a long time while we continued to pray. After 5 min or so we wandered to the crater and it had more smoke rising from the dirt than what rolls out of Cheech’s van. It was almost as if there was a fog machine set up, as it was setting 2-3’ off the ground.
We never found the stump, we searched and searched but it seemed to of disappeared. It was a mystery on that farm for the next 20+ years. On one of my misadventures with an excavator cleaning out a drainage ditch I hooked into something I couldn’t budge. I had to dig a massive hole around it and then drag it off to the side. My excavator wouldn’t even begin to lift it. I was able to roll it over and had to call Dad. It was the stump we had moved all those years prior. It had gone around 300 yards to the east and landed upside down in the creek. By the time we had walked that area days later the water had covered it up. Not leaving a trace it was ever there. To the best of my knowledge that stump is still there along side the ditch where I buried it.
My Dad and I had a great time hiding behind trees in the woods blowing stump up in the air. It was the “road” we had to build to get the back of the 40. At least that is what we told mom.
After a logging operation we had a 250ish year old red oak stump in our way. It was solid, 4’-5’ across, and firmly grown in blue clay.
We were able to buy gallon milk jugs of a blue crystal. I don’t know what the actual name was, dad just called it potent. It was what was used when they blew a farm pond.
So 3 stick of Dynamite on each corner of a triangle around the stump over the top of 1 gallon in each hole. Should be enough to lift it out of the hole and split it. Dad got a deal on lit fuse vs electric caps so we did our set up, timed it, lit it, and moved 1/4 mile and waited. Nothing for what seemed to be forever. We snuck close enough to see the fuse still smoldering and backed out for the day.
The next day we were worried about water infiltration and the viability of the unexploded dynamite. So along side each of the 3 holes a stick and a half was placed to ensure detonation. We used an electric caps and ran the wire. We only had 500’ or so of wire. So we parked the tractor and hid underneath it when he touched the battery terminals.
The ground shook violently and to our amazement we saw the stump headed towards the heavens. Clay chunks the size of soft balls started hitting all around us. We dove for cover and prayed the stump wouldn’t land on the tractor. It rained clay for a long time while we continued to pray. After 5 min or so we wandered to the crater and it had more smoke rising from the dirt than what rolls out of Cheech’s van. It was almost as if there was a fog machine set up, as it was setting 2-3’ off the ground.
We never found the stump, we searched and searched but it seemed to of disappeared. It was a mystery on that farm for the next 20+ years. On one of my misadventures with an excavator cleaning out a drainage ditch I hooked into something I couldn’t budge. I had to dig a massive hole around it and then drag it off to the side. My excavator wouldn’t even begin to lift it. I was able to roll it over and had to call Dad. It was the stump we had moved all those years prior. It had gone around 300 yards to the east and landed upside down in the creek. By the time we had walked that area days later the water had covered it up. Not leaving a trace it was ever there. To the best of my knowledge that stump is still there along side the ditch where I buried it.
Wildabeest
Well-known member
Lots of eyebrows have been lost to aquanet + bic lighter.
Irrelevant
Well-known member
I attempted something similar but only made it into the initial stages, I chopped the tips of my finger and thumb off with a hatchet trying to get the powder out of a set of firecrackers ...
Addicting
Well-known member
Telling the stump story has me smiling remembering all the trouble Dad and I ventured into.
One particular July 4th the new neighbors were celebrating. There were cars parked up and down the road and there must of been a couple hundred people in attendance. They were migrant turned citizens and good folks. However, their taste in music was obnoxious. Mexican polka played over audio system built around bass. Bump, bump, bump,…..
It got a little under our skin as our small party was drowned out. The Highwayman didn’t stand a chance over our small disc player.
So when their party started in on fireworks with decent boomers, the good idea fairy slapped me upside the head.
I took a 3/4” 2’x2’ piece of 7 ply out and nailed it to the top of a 6x6 corner post out behind the barn. I wired up a generous 1/4 stick, probably closer to a half. It was dark an I may of had a beer.
I had never touched one off in the air before and may of gotten it a little to generous. I clearly won the boom contest as you could see the shockwave hit all their cars. Seems all of them a had set their alarms along the road and you could watch them go off in order as the wave passed. I am guessing out of respect there were no more boomers set off at their party.
In the morning, Dad about beat my arse. The fence post did not fare well. The plywood was mere splinters strewn across the pasture. The top 1.5’ of the post was gone as well. Just jagged edges facing the sky. I never did replace that post. lol
One particular July 4th the new neighbors were celebrating. There were cars parked up and down the road and there must of been a couple hundred people in attendance. They were migrant turned citizens and good folks. However, their taste in music was obnoxious. Mexican polka played over audio system built around bass. Bump, bump, bump,…..
It got a little under our skin as our small party was drowned out. The Highwayman didn’t stand a chance over our small disc player.
So when their party started in on fireworks with decent boomers, the good idea fairy slapped me upside the head.
I took a 3/4” 2’x2’ piece of 7 ply out and nailed it to the top of a 6x6 corner post out behind the barn. I wired up a generous 1/4 stick, probably closer to a half. It was dark an I may of had a beer.
I had never touched one off in the air before and may of gotten it a little to generous. I clearly won the boom contest as you could see the shockwave hit all their cars. Seems all of them a had set their alarms along the road and you could watch them go off in order as the wave passed. I am guessing out of respect there were no more boomers set off at their party.
In the morning, Dad about beat my arse. The fence post did not fare well. The plywood was mere splinters strewn across the pasture. The top 1.5’ of the post was gone as well. Just jagged edges facing the sky. I never did replace that post. lol
LuketheDog
Well-known member
I want to hear the details on this, how old were you?! Chopped off bad or just a casual nick? My buddy's son just got a hatchet from his grandpa for Xmas, I wouldn't be surprised if a digit or two gets scalped soon...
