An old friend tells a similiar story. He was a grown, adult at the time,
having a pig roast on his rural property by digging a hole and putting a
wrapped whole pig in the hole with a bonfire etc.. etc..

He poured the gasoline in and his only match didn't work. Went back to the
hosue for a new set of matches and, knowing the danger, stood back as far as
he could. ... ran for his life for 100 yards to his house while it rained
kindling on him the whole way.

I copied him your story as it sounded even more dynamic and he will love it!


"billw" wrote in message
...
I loved the story. It could have happened to me... My next door
neighbor's uncle worked at a fireworks factory and he gave my neighbor
a case of cherry bombs. Only Tom didn't have anyplace to shoot them.
My grandfather's farm was a few miles outside of town where we could
set them off without bothering anyone except a few cows and pigs. Oh,
and my grandmother... Anyway, our parents dropped us off one morning
and we started blowing up everything that looked interesting. Only a
cherry bomb dropped into a rat hole, doesn't make much of anything
except a dull thump. So, I pored in a pint of gas, lit one and tossed
it in! BOOM!!!!!! The earth shook for 10 ft. So, if a little bit is
good a whole lot is better! We pored 5 gal of gasoline down an old
abandoned toilet that had rat holes running everywhere. Then before
we could toss a cherry bomb in the toilet my Grandmother called us in
for lunch. So for the next 30 minutes or so the gasoline fumes spread
throughout the ratholes and filled the shaft of the toilet. After
lunch we walked out to the toilet and I lit and tossed in a cherry
bomb. Tom looked at me, I looked at him and said: "You know, we might
need to run." "No **** Shirlock" was his answer. I almost didn't hear
it, cause I'd already started running. We were at the perfect spot
when the cherry bomb went off. Any closer and the blast would have
killed us, any farther away and the falling lumber, rocks and chunks
of nasty stuff would have killed us. All the windows on that side of
the house were blown in and my grandmother came out to see if we were
dead! When she found out we weren't, she picked up a stick and I
think she tried to kill us herself. When my grandfather came home he
beat us pretty good too, same for my parents and Tom's folks as well.
And for the next two or three days while my dad was fixing the
windows, I'd be walking by and for no reason at all, he'd snatch me up
and spank me again... Even a half a year later at New Years, when I
asked if we could shoot the rest of the cherry bombs, dad snatched me
up and beat me again. I don't know what was dumber, blowing up the
toilet or asking if we could shoot more cherry bombs. One good thing
came of the blast. We didn't need the old toilet out next to the
outbuildings anymore and the resulting hole was about 60' in diameter
and 20' deep. It was right next to the creek and it filled up pretty
quick. A pond is always a good thing on a farm...


On Sun, 04 Jul 2010 15:54:56 GMT, notbob wrote:

On 2010-07-04, ChairMan wrote:


I remember fishin' with M-80s back when I was a kid.
Oh the fung

Unfortunately, like most other forms of fun, our govt has outlawed
M80s. They are now classified as class D HE (high explosives) along
with cherry bombs and anything larger than 50mg of flash powder.
Mores the pity. Back in the 60s, I used to have a ball with them.
Never did anything stupid (er.. once!) or illegal, but they were a
hoot.

One experiment enlightened us to the real power of M80s. An old
firecracker trick was to punch/drill a hole in the closed end of an
empty soup can. Make the hole just big enough for the firecracker and
shove the cracker in about 3/4 way into the can. Now, put the lidless
end of the soup can facing down in a container of water, like a small
saucepan, so the water came at least a third of the way up the sides
of the can. When you lit the firecracker and it popped, the can acted
like a rocket and would ascend 100-150 ft in the air. Pretty much
harmless fun.

We tried the same with an M80. Yikes! The can went nowhere. It just
flattened out like a butterflied shrimp, the soldered seam having been
ripped apart, and the lid disappeared. It ruined the saucepan, too,
making a bulge in the bottom rendering it useless for cooking. Never
did find the end lid and we rightfully assumed it could have as easily
been embedded in one of our skulls. From that time on, we just set
them off to hear the report, making sure we were standing well back
and the M80 not near any potential shrapnel.

I still lament M80s being declared illegal, though. We never
suffered any harm, despite being collectively dumber'n a bag o'
hammers.

Happy Independence Day, whatever your pyrotechnic proclivities may
be!

nb