zzzippper
Member
This was inspired by the latter posts in the richochet thread. Maybe some of you have stories that can top this. I doubt it, but you can try.
Years ago I was part of a loose group of guys that went camping every spring and fall. One year I pulled a pop-up camper that had an old rusty propane tank. I didn't think if qualified to be refilled so I volunteered it for some fun. We set it next to the fire to warm up a bit and build the pressure in the tank. As we all took cover one guy shot it with a tracer. What occurred was one of the coolest things I've ever seen! The propane that had converted to gas went off like a mushroom cloud, it must have gone 40 feet in the air. Then the gas that was still liquid ignited and started shooting out of the bullet hole like a jet engine. The tank spun in a circle faster than you could track it until it all burned off. Awesome!
After that, no partially used propane bottle was safe. Usually the morning after, whatever was unused from the lantern or cooking dinner the night before would be set by the fire and then popped. Always a nice bang, usually the bottle went straight up.
Now we're almost to the dumb part. It was just me and my buddy camping in southeast Missouri, a place we often went. We got up on the morning we had to break camp and drive back to St. Louis. "Dave" made coffee on the tail gate of his pickup, parked about 40' from the fire. After the coffee was made he put the propane bottle near the fire and I knew to back off. Picture us in an equilateral triangle; me, Dave, and the propane bottle. Dave is a very deliberate shooter. He aimed the the bottle then lowered his pistol and took a hit on his cigarette and coffee. Aim again, take another drag. He likes to wait until you're to the point of aggrevated or not expecting him to shoot. Now comes the dumb part.
What happened next happened faster than anything I've ever seen. Picture this sequence taking place literally in the blink of an eye, maybe faster: Dave pulled the trigger, hit the propane bottle, the bottle launched like a one-pound perfectly guided missile, it hit Dave squarely in the nuts at an ungodly rate of speed, richocheted off still with enough energy to knock everything on his tail gate at least 10', and Dave collapsed like a building being imploded.
After the dust had settled I walked over to Dave. He didn't know whether to puke or pass out. He was holding his junk and only had enough strength to let out the occasional moan. When he could breathe again I asked if he was bleeding and he panted out "I...(gasp)...don't...(moan)...think so...". The "think so" didn't end, it just king of trailed off to more gasps for air. I said, "okay, you're on your own, I'm not going to rub it out for you."
I spent the next hour picking up the remains of his coffee pot, taking down the tent, etc. Dave finally got into his truck and sat in the shade for about another hour. I got everything loaded and eventually we drove home.
I still have that propane bottle.
Years ago I was part of a loose group of guys that went camping every spring and fall. One year I pulled a pop-up camper that had an old rusty propane tank. I didn't think if qualified to be refilled so I volunteered it for some fun. We set it next to the fire to warm up a bit and build the pressure in the tank. As we all took cover one guy shot it with a tracer. What occurred was one of the coolest things I've ever seen! The propane that had converted to gas went off like a mushroom cloud, it must have gone 40 feet in the air. Then the gas that was still liquid ignited and started shooting out of the bullet hole like a jet engine. The tank spun in a circle faster than you could track it until it all burned off. Awesome!
After that, no partially used propane bottle was safe. Usually the morning after, whatever was unused from the lantern or cooking dinner the night before would be set by the fire and then popped. Always a nice bang, usually the bottle went straight up.
Now we're almost to the dumb part. It was just me and my buddy camping in southeast Missouri, a place we often went. We got up on the morning we had to break camp and drive back to St. Louis. "Dave" made coffee on the tail gate of his pickup, parked about 40' from the fire. After the coffee was made he put the propane bottle near the fire and I knew to back off. Picture us in an equilateral triangle; me, Dave, and the propane bottle. Dave is a very deliberate shooter. He aimed the the bottle then lowered his pistol and took a hit on his cigarette and coffee. Aim again, take another drag. He likes to wait until you're to the point of aggrevated or not expecting him to shoot. Now comes the dumb part.
What happened next happened faster than anything I've ever seen. Picture this sequence taking place literally in the blink of an eye, maybe faster: Dave pulled the trigger, hit the propane bottle, the bottle launched like a one-pound perfectly guided missile, it hit Dave squarely in the nuts at an ungodly rate of speed, richocheted off still with enough energy to knock everything on his tail gate at least 10', and Dave collapsed like a building being imploded.
After the dust had settled I walked over to Dave. He didn't know whether to puke or pass out. He was holding his junk and only had enough strength to let out the occasional moan. When he could breathe again I asked if he was bleeding and he panted out "I...(gasp)...don't...(moan)...think so...". The "think so" didn't end, it just king of trailed off to more gasps for air. I said, "okay, you're on your own, I'm not going to rub it out for you."
I spent the next hour picking up the remains of his coffee pot, taking down the tent, etc. Dave finally got into his truck and sat in the shade for about another hour. I got everything loaded and eventually we drove home.
I still have that propane bottle.
Last edited:
