Fuel pump kept pumping, no spark. Boom, lol.
Dumb things you did as a kid.
- Thread starter lOOKnGO
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I worked in a Sears Auto Center in high school in the "back lane". Mufflers, shocks, water pumps, alternators, starters, nothing that required actual skill. I always enjoyed "visiting" the tune-up lane when one of the old fart mechanics would hand a charged condenser to a noob and ask, "What's that little wire for there." BAHAHAHAHA!!!
Forgot those, they bite.
Bitchin' car though! Lots of laws broken in Dad's '68 LTD 2-door...390...C6...front discs (GASP!!)...stainless duals with glass packs... Loved that car. Lots of snail tracks in the massive back seat...I will have one like it one day...maybe with a Trinity swap on bags...
I bought that '67 from Dad in 1972 and drove it all through school. Behold, my front yard paint job, lol.
We did the BB gun wars too,
Don't know if it was the dumbest or the smartest thing I did.... I was 16 dating a girl whose parents would always send her younger brother (12 yrs old) to tag along... Driving my moms Chevy Ctation (this was back in 1985) with my girlfriend and her brother, thinking "How am I gonna get laid with him around???"
So I drove to a cemetery and taught him to drive... He drove around while I tagged his sister in the back.... I kept thinking please don't crash!!!
Don't know if it was the dumbest or the smartest thing I did.... I was 16 dating a girl whose parents would always send her younger brother (12 yrs old) to tag along... Driving my moms Chevy Ctation (this was back in 1985) with my girlfriend and her brother, thinking "How am I gonna get laid with him around???"
So I drove to a cemetery and taught him to drive... He drove around while I tagged his sister in the back.... I kept thinking please don't crash!!!
When I was about 9, I decided to see how fast a slot car motor would spin if I hooked it up to a wall outlet. So I extended the wires, went into the bathroom, put one wire in one slot, and as I got the 2nd wire close to the 2nd slot, the wire vaporized with a snap of lightning. The lights must have dimmed because my mom yelled from downstairs, "what are you doing?!?!" "Nothing mom!"
I used to fly model rockets when I was a kid, and my brother always had a stash of M80s hidden, but I knew where they were. One day I decided it would be fun to rig up an M80 in a rocket so the rocket's ejection charge would light the fuse and blow it up. I accounted for the delay in the rocket engine, but I did not account for the time the fuse would take to burn. No big deal except I chose to conduct this experiment in front of my house. I launched the rocket and damn near had the pad all packed up ready to haul back in the house as I watched the rocket arc over, and drop...and drop...and drop...until it blew up about 2 feet above the roof of the house behind ours. "What are you doing?!?!" "Nothing mom!"
We lived on a pretty major road, and my crazy buddy up the road lived on a big property with big berms between the house and the road. They got new carpet one day, and that carpet came wrapped around giant thick cardboard tubes. Hmmmm...kind of cannon-like. And somewhere he had found some heavy rubber band-like material. Hmmm...didn't take long before we rigged up a rock-launcher that we employed against the cars whizzing along the road. Pretty fun until we made contact with a car whose driver could actually drive, and wasn't afraid to take his car off road. I have never run so fast in my life. He didn't catch us but he did report to the parents. He was gone by the time we got back and we somehow maintained plausible deniability and didn't get in real trouble.
Then there was the snowballs and cars. We had "forts" all over the place, mostly hedgerows with big accomodating caverns inside, or giant pine trees whose boughs reached the ground, and if you crawled under them, you basically had a tent. Lots and lots and lots of near captures from enraged drivers, but we always escaped.
Soaking plastic model cars in gasoline and igniting them with firecrackers. Good times.
I used to fly model rockets when I was a kid, and my brother always had a stash of M80s hidden, but I knew where they were. One day I decided it would be fun to rig up an M80 in a rocket so the rocket's ejection charge would light the fuse and blow it up. I accounted for the delay in the rocket engine, but I did not account for the time the fuse would take to burn. No big deal except I chose to conduct this experiment in front of my house. I launched the rocket and damn near had the pad all packed up ready to haul back in the house as I watched the rocket arc over, and drop...and drop...and drop...until it blew up about 2 feet above the roof of the house behind ours. "What are you doing?!?!" "Nothing mom!"
We lived on a pretty major road, and my crazy buddy up the road lived on a big property with big berms between the house and the road. They got new carpet one day, and that carpet came wrapped around giant thick cardboard tubes. Hmmmm...kind of cannon-like. And somewhere he had found some heavy rubber band-like material. Hmmm...didn't take long before we rigged up a rock-launcher that we employed against the cars whizzing along the road. Pretty fun until we made contact with a car whose driver could actually drive, and wasn't afraid to take his car off road. I have never run so fast in my life. He didn't catch us but he did report to the parents. He was gone by the time we got back and we somehow maintained plausible deniability and didn't get in real trouble.
Then there was the snowballs and cars. We had "forts" all over the place, mostly hedgerows with big accomodating caverns inside, or giant pine trees whose boughs reached the ground, and if you crawled under them, you basically had a tent. Lots and lots and lots of near captures from enraged drivers, but we always escaped.
Soaking plastic model cars in gasoline and igniting them with firecrackers. Good times.
In high school I laid an empty soda can on the edge of a table in the cafeteria. Took out my lighter and filled the can with butane fumes. Flicked on the lighter and put it to the opening of the can. Flames blew out of the can, torched the top of my thumb and got the attention of the cafeteria moderator. Guess who got detention?
I could write a book longer than War & Peace of the crap I did as a kid.
Most of it involved things that explode, or catch on fire, or both.
The best one in my long list of stories? I made a potato cannon that had an ether tank on it. I used to fire Nerf footballs at my sister with it. She got ahold of the damn thing one day, filled the barrel with dog crap, and fired it at the first car that drove by. She was 10.
Most of it involved things that explode, or catch on fire, or both.
The best one in my long list of stories? I made a potato cannon that had an ether tank on it. I used to fire Nerf footballs at my sister with it. She got ahold of the damn thing one day, filled the barrel with dog crap, and fired it at the first car that drove by. She was 10.
Great stories. Someone should compose this into a book. 'Adventures of The Ritards from SVTP'
I dread my daughter doing half the shit I did as a kid. For reference I'm 44 and was in "that era". lol.
I dread my daughter doing half the shit I did as a kid. For reference I'm 44 and was in "that era". lol.
Been chased by the police on two wheels, three wheels, and four when I was younger.
When I was young satellite dishes were huge and had to move to point at different places. I put a football through a friend's neighbor's dish.
Was jumping a road in a park and thought my buddy said go, dented a Passport's door with my head.
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When I was young satellite dishes were huge and had to move to point at different places. I put a football through a friend's neighbor's dish.
Was jumping a road in a park and thought my buddy said go, dented a Passport's door with my head.
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Funny to see all the parallel stories on this thread.
Summer 1978, went to a buddies house on my bike about a mile away. He was in his basement unrolling a brick of Blackcat firecrackers. He was about 3/4 of the way through the brick. He had a pile of paper a pile of fuses and a very small bit of powder. He was a year older then me 4.0 student and champion wrestler and football star. I showed up in time to watch him pour the little bit uof powder in a spent .45 casing, the fuses were placed around the outside of casing before filling. He then took something smaller a bit smaller to seal off the top of the casing. He grabbed a hammer the tapped the top on it as he held the casing. I was looking over to the side of him and BooM! That thing went off and I was blown on my back and he was running around holding his hand had a bleeding profusely. His mother took him to the hospital, leaving me behind by my request, bleeding above the knee from shrapnel . I biked home walked through the door my sock and shoe all bloody. My mom said, "Go take a shower, and I'll take you to the doctor".
His sisters went nuts when they came home and found all the blood and no one was around. They calmed down when I got home and told them what happened. My friend came close to losing his hand and spent the better part of the next few weeks in the hospital. The blast left his hand print on the handle part of the hammer and parts of his fingers were stuck to the ceiling tiles in his room. Luck was on my side.
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Summer 1978, went to a buddies house on my bike about a mile away. He was in his basement unrolling a brick of Blackcat firecrackers. He was about 3/4 of the way through the brick. He had a pile of paper a pile of fuses and a very small bit of powder. He was a year older then me 4.0 student and champion wrestler and football star. I showed up in time to watch him pour the little bit uof powder in a spent .45 casing, the fuses were placed around the outside of casing before filling. He then took something smaller a bit smaller to seal off the top of the casing. He grabbed a hammer the tapped the top on it as he held the casing. I was looking over to the side of him and BooM! That thing went off and I was blown on my back and he was running around holding his hand had a bleeding profusely. His mother took him to the hospital, leaving me behind by my request, bleeding above the knee from shrapnel . I biked home walked through the door my sock and shoe all bloody. My mom said, "Go take a shower, and I'll take you to the doctor".
His sisters went nuts when they came home and found all the blood and no one was around. They calmed down when I got home and told them what happened. My friend came close to losing his hand and spent the better part of the next few weeks in the hospital. The blast left his hand print on the handle part of the hammer and parts of his fingers were stuck to the ceiling tiles in his room. Luck was on my side.
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Holy cow - that's a bad day right there. How old were you jamokes??
14 and 15
His dad was a Colonel and his mom was Vietnamese. Before that fiasco, his neighbor (who was my friend too), and I were raking leaves and put them down the stairway to the basement. Rather than bag them he figured it would be easier to get his mom's AquaNet and light the pile on fire. Well, his mom was watching fortunately and came out of the house yelling in Vietnamese and chasing us around the yard with a broom swinging to harm. Needless to say we gave up the leaf raking business.
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Most of my dumb stuff was on bicycles.
When I was very very young, 3 ish, I got a tiny bike, it had 12" tires. I still have it. My dad was impressed I was able to ride it in the store so he bought it. While he was showing my mom in the driveway that I could somehow ride this thing I went right out the driveway and down the huge hill our house was at the top of. They couldn't catch me, I flew down the whole hill and loved it. Scared them to death, they still remember it vividly.
The hill was a thing when I got older. 35-40 mph on 20" tire bikes, no helmet, no hands, on pegs, whatever. Almost on a daily basis for years. Seriously injured my parent's friends son who thought he could ride a bike. He panicked and froze, he didn't follow the curve and crashed.
One day I went down it full speed and off the road to jump the creek that runs through there. I almost made it. I didn't break anything. I wanted a dirt bike so bad from about 11-15 but my parents refused. They thought I would kill myself because I seemed to have no fear. For that reason, I have never bought a street bike or any kind of motorcycle. I know I would get hurt on it.
My parents let me buy my first car when I was 13 to try and shut me up about a dirtbike or go-kart. 85 Caprice coupe. I worked on that car night and day, it was a bomb but it ran. I had my dad make passes at Cecil County Dragway when I was still too young to drive it. 16.8 was the quickest. I put at least a hundred miles on it from 14-15, driving around the half-mile circle when my parents weren't home. All the neighbors knew what a Quadrajet sounded like. Then one day I'm cruising around the neighborhood and I see like a 4-year-old girl. There were no kids that young in my neighborhood. So while I'm wondering who this is, I notice she's holding something. She was holding a long leash, attached to small dog on the other side of the street. I locked the brakes up. Came pretty close to it.
When I was very very young, 3 ish, I got a tiny bike, it had 12" tires. I still have it. My dad was impressed I was able to ride it in the store so he bought it. While he was showing my mom in the driveway that I could somehow ride this thing I went right out the driveway and down the huge hill our house was at the top of. They couldn't catch me, I flew down the whole hill and loved it. Scared them to death, they still remember it vividly.
The hill was a thing when I got older. 35-40 mph on 20" tire bikes, no helmet, no hands, on pegs, whatever. Almost on a daily basis for years. Seriously injured my parent's friends son who thought he could ride a bike. He panicked and froze, he didn't follow the curve and crashed.
One day I went down it full speed and off the road to jump the creek that runs through there. I almost made it. I didn't break anything. I wanted a dirt bike so bad from about 11-15 but my parents refused. They thought I would kill myself because I seemed to have no fear. For that reason, I have never bought a street bike or any kind of motorcycle. I know I would get hurt on it.
My parents let me buy my first car when I was 13 to try and shut me up about a dirtbike or go-kart. 85 Caprice coupe. I worked on that car night and day, it was a bomb but it ran. I had my dad make passes at Cecil County Dragway when I was still too young to drive it. 16.8 was the quickest. I put at least a hundred miles on it from 14-15, driving around the half-mile circle when my parents weren't home. All the neighbors knew what a Quadrajet sounded like. Then one day I'm cruising around the neighborhood and I see like a 4-year-old girl. There were no kids that young in my neighborhood. So while I'm wondering who this is, I notice she's holding something. She was holding a long leash, attached to small dog on the other side of the street. I locked the brakes up. Came pretty close to it.
16.8! Get it! LOL
Climbed on grandmas large van when I had just turned 8 in a parking lot. Tried to a backflip off, landed head first.
The result is why I have a tattoo on my back of 7 skulls. Don't remember much of the first 7 years of my life before that
The result is why I have a tattoo on my back of 7 skulls. Don't remember much of the first 7 years of my life before that
Oh geez, lol.
Damn that's rough, crazy that never came up and in a tattoo discussion this story was never mentioned, and never saw a tat. Maybe your tumor ate the ink...Or maybe you just conveniently remembered, like a 20+ year conscious coma.
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