The effect it has on a man is primal. There is something about the dance of the flame and the consuming beauty of a fire that draws us to it, like a moth to the light. Long before we were mesmerized by television, man spent his hours listening to the sirens call of burning things.
Like most boys, my friends and I spent our days finding just how much mischief we could get away with. It was in one such quest we happened to stumble upon a plastic 5gallon with that most seductive of words on its side; "FLAMABLE". For a 13 year old boy, only a box with "boobies" on the side of it could possibly be more appealing.
By stumble upon, I mean found in the neighbors garage and sort of took home with us with out asking.
Don't judge me I was a kid. If he didn't want us to have it, he should have locked the door.
The bucket contained an oily mix that burned quite nicely, not gasoline or solvent it was a mix of some kind. Either way, it burned army men real good.
Just so you don't think I was your run of the mill street hooligan I need to tell you this flammable gift allowed me to create our finest plaything, The Spitfire.
You know the pneumatic closer on your storm door? It does its job with a spring and a plunger, and at the end there is screw that you can open or close to adjust the air being released and therefore how fast the door will close.
If that screw is removed the spring will rapidly discharge the air out of the end of the metal cylinder.
Adding a strap to the end of the shaft, place the open end into a glass of gas/oil mix, pull back drawing the fuel inside, ignite the end and release.
It will shoot a flaming jet of fuel about ten feet.
It was awesome. I was quite the Macgyver
But sadly it was not my creation that almost did me in; it was the old adage "never pour gas on a fire"
My friend and I had poured a few puddles of fuel on the ground, just to watch them burn. When he said we should stop before his mom smelled the stuff burning, as we were just outside his back door.
Typical mom.
He ducked inside to see if she was coming when I decided "just a little bit more" and splashed more fuel on the flame. Now we had done this a lot of times before without incident. I remember thinking that as I watched in slow motion as the flame traveled up the stream to the 5 gallon bomb in my hands.
Just the month prior a kid about my age died from a similar act when his metal gas can exploded and shrapnel did its work. My bucket was plastic but I didn't want to test it out.
I tossed the bucket, toward the fire, as I remember and turned to run.
At this time my friend came back to check on me as the can exploded in a fireball where I had been standing. I had ducked around the corner so to him it appeared I had been blown to bits.
Well I was not, but my hair was comically blown back and was smoking where it got singed. I had first degree burns and looked like I had real bad sunburn for a month.
But worst of all was the lectures from mom and the doctors about playing with fire.
Next time an electricity double play.
rating: 13
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