A Bullet's Hot Breath: As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wander over a wide area of our community. Sometimes, just for practice, we would visit a trash pit where folks had...

Robert J Samples Loc: Round Rock, Texas

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wander over a wide area of our community. Sometimes, just for practice, we would visit a trash pit where folks had dumped their used tin cans, discarded items, and such. My buddy and first cousin, Dwayne Cannon, and I would take turns throwing up bottles and jars for the other to practice shooting at on the wing. Of course, we did not use live .22 ammunition, but slingshots and rocks. .22 ammo was too expensive and would have been dangerous to be shooting so near to near neighbors.

With a slingshot you can follow the path of the rock and the thrown object so on the next round, if the thrown object takes the same path, you have a chance to correct your shot. Of course, a lot depended upon having a good round rock, which wasn’t always possible. It didn’t matter, we were having fun, hit or miss. This was excellent hand/eye coordination and wing shooting.

On this particular day, I was alone except for my faithful companion, my dog Bruce. We had ventured along Camp Creek, and then on down toward Red River and upon an abandoned farm I had not visited before. The only standing building was a barn made primarily of logs. This structure had been a corn crib and there wasn’t a door at floor level, but up about halfway to the top. I suppose the farmer shoveled the corn into this part of the barn through this window and then later parceled it out through a narrow window on the other side for his animals.

Both my dog Bruce and I were always on the lookout for a rat’s nest, so Bruce waited patiently outside, and I intended to climb up and look through this higher door. Now I had a single-shot Remington .22 rifle. It only fired when cocked by pulling back on a knob at the end of the action.
I am about halfway up and about ready to open the door to see inside this corn crib when I slipped and lost the grip on the rifle. It slipped backward and the plunger that ordinarily had to be cocked, hit a brace on the barn door, with enough to cause the rifle to fire!

Fortunately, as the rifle fell, I did manage to grab the barrel in time to hold it away at a slight angle. The bullet passed within inches of my face! It was probably as close as I have even been to being shot. I had just learned one more way to do myself harm without really trying. Just Sayin…RJS

Passingbye Loc: Reidsville NC

Robert J Samples wrote:

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wander over a wide area of our community. Sometimes, just for practice, we would visit a trash pit where folks had dumped their used tin cans, discarded items, and such. My buddy and first cousin, Dwayne Cannon, and I would take turns throwing up bottles and jars for the other to practice shooting at on the wing. Of course, we did not use live .22 ammunition, but slingshots and rocks. .22 ammo was too expensive and would have been dangerous to be shooting so near to near neighbors.

With a slingshot you can follow the path of the rock and the thrown object so on the next round, if the thrown object takes the same path, you have a chance to correct your shot. Of course, a lot depended upon having a good round rock, which wasn’t always possible. It didn’t matter, we were having fun, hit or miss. This was excellent hand/eye coordination and wing shooting.

On this particular day, I was alone except for my faithful companion, my dog Bruce. We had ventured along Camp Creek, and then on down toward Red River and upon an abandoned farm I had not visited before. The only standing building was a barn made primarily of logs. This structure had been a corn crib and there wasn’t a door at floor level, but up about halfway to the top. I suppose the farmer shoveled the corn into this part of the barn through this window and then later parceled it out through a narrow window on the other side for his animals.

Both my dog Bruce and I were always on the lookout for a rat’s nest, so Bruce waited patiently outside, and I intended to climb up and look through this higher door. Now I had a single-shot Remington .22 rifle. It only fired when cocked by pulling back on a knob at the end of the action.
I am about halfway up and about ready to open the door to see inside this corn crib when I slipped and lost the grip on the rifle. It slipped backward and the plunger that ordinarily had to be cocked, hit a brace on the barn door, with enough to cause the rifle to fire!

Fortunately, as the rifle fell, I did manage to grab the barrel in time to hold it away at a slight angle. The bullet passed within inches of my face! It was probably as close as I have even been to being shot. I had just learned one more way to do myself harm without really trying. Just Sayin…RJS

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wande... (show quote)

That was almost close enough to shave with Robert! I was given a Remington center penfire 22 rifle handed down from my grandpa. It was made in 1905 had grooved barrel, favorite bulldog gun of my dad and me as is was very accurate.

ripogenu Loc: norfolk, MA

Robert J Samples wrote:

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wander over a wide area of our community. Sometimes, just for practice, we would visit a trash pit where folks had dumped their used tin cans, discarded items, and such. My buddy and first cousin, Dwayne Cannon, and I would take turns throwing up bottles and jars for the other to practice shooting at on the wing. Of course, we did not use live .22 ammunition, but slingshots and rocks. .22 ammo was too expensive and would have been dangerous to be shooting so near to near neighbors.

With a slingshot you can follow the path of the rock and the thrown object so on the next round, if the thrown object takes the same path, you have a chance to correct your shot. Of course, a lot depended upon having a good round rock, which wasn’t always possible. It didn’t matter, we were having fun, hit or miss. This was excellent hand/eye coordination and wing shooting.

On this particular day, I was alone except for my faithful companion, my dog Bruce. We had ventured along Camp Creek, and then on down toward Red River and upon an abandoned farm I had not visited before. The only standing building was a barn made primarily of logs. This structure had been a corn crib and there wasn’t a door at floor level, but up about halfway to the top. I suppose the farmer shoveled the corn into this part of the barn through this window and then later parceled it out through a narrow window on the other side for his animals.

Both my dog Bruce and I were always on the lookout for a rat’s nest, so Bruce waited patiently outside, and I intended to climb up and look through this higher door. Now I had a single-shot Remington .22 rifle. It only fired when cocked by pulling back on a knob at the end of the action.
I am about halfway up and about ready to open the door to see inside this corn crib when I slipped and lost the grip on the rifle. It slipped backward and the plunger that ordinarily had to be cocked, hit a brace on the barn door, with enough to cause the rifle to fire!

Fortunately, as the rifle fell, I did manage to grab the barrel in time to hold it away at a slight angle. The bullet passed within inches of my face! It was probably as close as I have even been to being shot. I had just learned one more way to do myself harm without really trying. Just Sayin…RJS

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wande... (show quote)

I still have that same Remington single shot .22. and can still pop a squirrel at 50 yards.

HenryG Loc: Falmouth Cape Cod Massachusetts

Robert J Samples wrote:

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wander over a wide area of our community. Sometimes, just for practice, we would visit a trash pit where folks had dumped their used tin cans, discarded items, and such. My buddy and first cousin, Dwayne Cannon, and I would take turns throwing up bottles and jars for the other to practice shooting at on the wing. Of course, we did not use live .22 ammunition, but slingshots and rocks. .22 ammo was too expensive and would have been dangerous to be shooting so near to near neighbors.

With a slingshot you can follow the path of the rock and the thrown object so on the next round, if the thrown object takes the same path, you have a chance to correct your shot. Of course, a lot depended upon having a good round rock, which wasn’t always possible. It didn’t matter, we were having fun, hit or miss. This was excellent hand/eye coordination and wing shooting.

On this particular day, I was alone except for my faithful companion, my dog Bruce. We had ventured along Camp Creek, and then on down toward Red River and upon an abandoned farm I had not visited before. The only standing building was a barn made primarily of logs. This structure had been a corn crib and there wasn’t a door at floor level, but up about halfway to the top. I suppose the farmer shoveled the corn into this part of the barn through this window and then later parceled it out through a narrow window on the other side for his animals.

Both my dog Bruce and I were always on the lookout for a rat’s nest, so Bruce waited patiently outside, and I intended to climb up and look through this higher door. Now I had a single-shot Remington .22 rifle. It only fired when cocked by pulling back on a knob at the end of the action.
I am about halfway up and about ready to open the door to see inside this corn crib when I slipped and lost the grip on the rifle. It slipped backward and the plunger that ordinarily had to be cocked, hit a brace on the barn door, with enough to cause the rifle to fire!

Fortunately, as the rifle fell, I did manage to grab the barrel in time to hold it away at a slight angle. The bullet passed within inches of my face! It was probably as close as I have even been to being shot. I had just learned one more way to do myself harm without really trying. Just Sayin…RJS

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wande... (show quote)

Close? Ain't the word for it Mr Samples did you have to change your shorts? 🙂👍

Robert J Samples Loc: Round Rock, Texas

HenryG: No, I guess I was too young and dumb to be as scared as I should have been. You know how young boys are, they believe they are bulletproof! Just Sayin...RJS

HenryG Loc: Falmouth Cape Cod Massachusetts

Robert J Samples wrote:

HenryG: No, I guess I was too young and dumb to be as scared as I should have been. You know how young boys are, they believe they are bulletproof! Just Sayin...RJS

We were☝️🙂🤏

Barnacles Loc: Northern California

If we weren't indestructible when we were young, how the heck am I still here? I did a lot of things that could have - or should have - settled my hash!

Kerry Hansen Loc: Bremerton, WA

Robert J Samples wrote:

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wander over a wide area of our community. Sometimes, just for practice, we would visit a trash pit where folks had dumped their used tin cans, discarded items, and such. My buddy and first cousin, Dwayne Cannon, and I would take turns throwing up bottles and jars for the other to practice shooting at on the wing. Of course, we did not use live .22 ammunition, but slingshots and rocks. .22 ammo was too expensive and would have been dangerous to be shooting so near to near neighbors.

With a slingshot you can follow the path of the rock and the thrown object so on the next round, if the thrown object takes the same path, you have a chance to correct your shot. Of course, a lot depended upon having a good round rock, which wasn’t always possible. It didn’t matter, we were having fun, hit or miss. This was excellent hand/eye coordination and wing shooting.

On this particular day, I was alone except for my faithful companion, my dog Bruce. We had ventured along Camp Creek, and then on down toward Red River and upon an abandoned farm I had not visited before. The only standing building was a barn made primarily of logs. This structure had been a corn crib and there wasn’t a door at floor level, but up about halfway to the top. I suppose the farmer shoveled the corn into this part of the barn through this window and then later parceled it out through a narrow window on the other side for his animals.

Both my dog Bruce and I were always on the lookout for a rat’s nest, so Bruce waited patiently outside, and I intended to climb up and look through this higher door. Now I had a single-shot Remington .22 rifle. It only fired when cocked by pulling back on a knob at the end of the action.
I am about halfway up and about ready to open the door to see inside this corn crib when I slipped and lost the grip on the rifle. It slipped backward and the plunger that ordinarily had to be cocked, hit a brace on the barn door, with enough to cause the rifle to fire!

Fortunately, as the rifle fell, I did manage to grab the barrel in time to hold it away at a slight angle. The bullet passed within inches of my face! It was probably as close as I have even been to being shot. I had just learned one more way to do myself harm without really trying. Just Sayin…RJS

As a kid and even a teenager, we would often wande... (show quote)

Dang, that was a close one, glad it missed you!