Back in the mid-70s, when I was a teenager, some of my friends used to make homemade explosives. There were several memorable "events", two of which I think are worth mentioning.
One of them sounds like an urban legend, but I'm telling you this happened, I was there.
WARNING: SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS TO A SMALL RODENT IN THIS STORY. IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE, DON'T READ FURTHER.
We took one of "Jeff's" pipe-bombs into our usual undeveloped field (Columbus used to have those). We found a gopher hole that looked new, and stuffed the bomb into it, lit the fuse and ran. After observing the explosion, which was dissappointing, we started digging to see if we could find gopher remains. We stopped shortly after we began for two reasons: the ground was incredibly hard; and "Lyle" found another hole just a few feet away. The other hole came out of the ground at a shallow angle, and it seemed to form a perfect "gopher cannon". We all must have had this thought at the same time; because no one said a word. We just started walking fast in the direction the "barrel" pointed, scanning the ground.
About 50' or so from the second hole we found it. The varmint had landed on a rock, and its teeth had been jammed through the top of its head. I have felt bad about being an accessory to this matter in the years since; but at the time I laughed until tears were streaming down my face, just like everybody else.
The other event did not result in the death of any small animals, though we did come close to losing our own lives.
Instead of going to the abandoned field, we went to the common area behind "Donny's" house. There was a large family playing croquet at one end, and an area at the other end where people had dumped furniture, mattresses, and other things that the sanitation department used to refuse to pick up. (I don't know if their policies have changed or not)
We placed a pipe bomb, very similar to the one in the previous story, but bigger, into the top drawer of a desk. It didn't occur to us that the night stand that was jammed under the drawer, on which the desk was balanced, should be removed. In fact, we had to have two guys lift the desk to get the drawer open, but then we just set the desk back on the nightstand and ran (the fuse had been lit).
We took cover behind a picnic table that we had knocked over. I'm sure this looked pretty strange to the family that was playing croquet, seeing 5 kids in their early teens jammed behind a picnic table, peering over the top of it.
When the bomb went off, the sound startled me so badly that I ducked behind the table. The other guys didn't even have time to make fun of me for being a wuss before I shouted "look!" and pointed behind us. They turned to look and we all marveled at the sight of the top of the desk spinning like a frisbee toward the family that had by now stopped playing croquet.
Thankfully, the desk top didn't hit anyone. Even more fortunately, we didn't get hit. Two adult male members of the family chased us, brandishing their croquet mallets. I don't think I've ever been that scared; probably because I knew that I deserved the beating I would get if they had caught me.
Most of my friends from that time period are now either dead or in jail. I was fortunate to live long enough to straighten up, without having ever injured myself or someone else.
Ironically, the guy who actually made the pipe bombs is the one guy from that group apart from me who is doing OK. The last time I saw him, I was in Columbus for an OSU football game and I was gassing up my rental car before returning it to Thrifty on Seltzer Rd. next to the Airport. Someone shouted my name and I turned around; there was "Jeff", gassing up his immaculate white 740i. He owned his own painting business and was apparently doing VERY well.
Go Figure.
