Don’t know who wrote this but he has a way with words that makes one visualize being right there beside him. Good read

Life as a child growing up in Oklahoma ....

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 tire 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).

A 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, a 1 lb. pyrodex and 16 oz (Ether) should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know?

You know what? Screw that I'm going back in the house for the other can, so 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 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 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 COTTON PICKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE.

There was a big sweet gum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said "was". That sucker 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 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.

Author Unknown

Its true though....I got my first bow at 9....a "hand me down" 55lb Bear Super Kodiak recurve that I could barely string, let alone draw back. But, I eventually got it back and shot a bazillion arrows through it.
Kind of a funny story...in retrospect anyway...at 16 I had graduated to my first compound bow...a PSE Valiant (Im strictly a Hoyt man now, have been for 30 yrs) and I loved it at the time....had to mow alot of yards to buy it too.
Anyway, had a makeshift range in the backyard with hay bales set up as a back stop next to the back chain link fence. A neighbors yard butted up to ours but the backstop was in a corner so as not to be shooting towards their house. And that back stop, specifically, was 2 bales stacked laying lengthwise on top of one another.
I was practicing for the upcoming archery hunting season and was gonna shoot with some broadheads...Bear Super Razorheads...a traditional style head with an insertable bleeder blade. I had a few I reserved for practice that were dull.
I placed a target on the bales...but didnt take into acct that the target laid right in the seam where the 2 bales met. Anyhoo, I drew back and released my first arrow....satisfaction of a dead center hole in that target was instantly replaced by a "What THE hell?!" when I heard a "BAROOOOOOO!!!" scream come from behind the haybales...my neighbors basset hound had laid unseen in their corner of yard behind my target.....and my arrow passed through the bale seam, through the fence, and struck the hound in a tender spot.
After the poor pooches "barooo", I was greeted with the sight of him running across the yard with my arrow stuck in his azz.
Luckily, the shaft had slowed down enough not to penetrate too much and fell out during the hounds hectic dash....but I had to inform the neighbors. I was petrified knocking on their door and explaining what happened....but they were unawares...until we walked out back and saw their poor dog licking the wound on his butt.
They took him to the vet to get stitched up and my dad payed the $70 and I cut more yards to pay him back. That damn bow had ALOT of sweat equity in it lol
I damn sure checked behing the target after that day
I really felt terrible about it though. Live and learn.

As a kid, I played with black powder a lot. I carefully unrolled hundreds of Black Cat firecrackers for enough powder to build a real grenade. Five Gallon steel cans were blown up! Aspirin bottles were tossed just like they did in the movies...

I really shouldn't be alive.

I have some black powder now for my 1847 Walker Colt.

Some things never change.

I did the "unroll the firecrackers" thing too...its a wonder all the fingers are still intact

Yep,I wonder sometimes why I wasn't fatally burned or blown up!
Mixed some stuff together that hasn't any business to even being in the same room!