,I was just asked "If that KA-BOOM story might prove instructive, why not tell it?" Accordingly, and as a public service to the readers of THR, I present The Sad Tale of BB and The Flattened Tire, Or, What Could Possibly Go Awry?.
I had introduced a school chum to black powder shooting, and he swallowed the hook. He saved for months, and lucked into a handmade .45 Kentucky with L&R lock and triggers and a Douglas Premium air gauge barrel. He was a good guy, but sometimes could exhibit a hardheaded streak. His friends called him BB, initials that stood in for his name and his nickname, Bonehead Buddy. He became obsessed with the notion of proof testing his new rifle's barrel. I told him- repeatedly- that it was totally unnecessary. I acquired a letter from Douglas that backed me up. I begged him to let it go. He would not rest until he had proofed that tube; until he shoved two .440 balls down on top of 180 grains of powder and busted a cap on it, his rifle would always be (in his mind, at any rate) a pipe bomb waiting to happen.
I had been playing with dual-ball loads, and hadn't blown my Hawken up even once, so I agreed to help him if it would shut him the heck up. My two hopes were to keep him out of trouble, and to be the first one to shake his hand and say "See? Told ya so!" We agreed to meet at our favorite rock pit that Saturday.
At the appointed time, BB came rolling up in his pickup truck with the cabover camper. I had borrowed Dad's truck, as my Dart couldn't manage the road to the pit. BB had everything needed to fire his new Kentucky. He had ever done some homework, settling on the 180 gr. charge as a suitable "double service charge." He even had some fireworks fuse to use in sparking the charge. His intention was to dismount the barrel and tie it down to his truck's spare tire so he wouldn't crack his stock. I wasn't really
worried- he'd shot my BP guns quite a bit and never had a speck of trouble. As long as he followed my lead, what could possibly go wrong?
The trouble started when we couldn't get his spare out of the carrier. No biggie, I offered Dad's spare for the experiment. Now, to load the barrel..."BB, this is IMPORTANT, hear? Pour the powder down the barrel first. Short start the first ball about an inch or so, seat the second ball ball down on top of the first, then drive the both of them down at the same time. The last thing we want is an air space between those balls. Got it?"
"I wish you'd get off my case about how to load this thing. If you told me once, you told me a hundred times, sheesht."
"Just do it, OK? I'm gonna get my camera out of the truck." I left BB alone, sure that he had a grasp of the process. More the fool I.
When I returned with the camera, BB pronounced the barrel ready to tie to the spare. We did so, inserted the fuse, and had a moment of clarity- perhaps we should move the trucks back a ways, and observe from a distance. Not that anything could go wrong, of course, just 'cause, you know? So we backed the rigs off 100 yards or so, changed the fuse to a length that would burn for 30 seconds or so, lit it and ran back to the trucks.
Thirty seconds later we were rewarded with a healthy KA-BOOM. More KA-BOOM, in fact,than we anticipated..... and would you look at that dust cloud? That's 100 feet in the air if it's an inch! Then we heard the THUMP. And another THUMP, this one only 30 feet from us. I wandered over to the scene of the THUMP and was rewarded with my first look at the inside of a Douglas barrel.
I had found a piece of barrel about 8 inches long. Picture a factory cutaway that involved just one flat of the barrel, with the rifling exposed. One end showed a definite stress break, while the other tapered off like a steel banana peel. It wasn't as hot as I thought it might be. It was the only part of the tube that we ever found from behind the blockage.
"BB, we should go look at that tire."
"Did that seem right to you?"
"No, BB, I think there's a problem."
"Like what?"
"Like the barrel exploded."
"No way!"
"Let's go look."
We drove to the scene of the crime. About three feet of barrel was still tied to the tire, and what I presume to be the top ball was still in place, just ahead of the break. The tire was in poor shape; the bead had broken, the rim was dented, and a fragment had sliced the sidewall open. I think the sudden loss of air caused the dust cloud, more than the explosion itself.
BB was distraught. It was a full half hour before I could ask him how he had loaded the balls; sure enough, he had tried to seat them one at a time, "just like YOU TOLD ME TO DO!" Uh uh, mister, think about it...... I told you.... no air space allowed.....
An argument ensued, and we parted on bad terms. BB took the two pieces of barrel (I never found any others), and I never saw them again. BB didn't speak to me for years. I never did take any pictures. Dad was spectacularly upset about that spare tire.
Lessons learned:
Just because you CAN do it, it doesn't follow that you SHOULD.
The "responsible party" should NEVER leave the loading to the newbie.
100 yards probably wasn't far enough. We were lucky.
Be you ever so intelligent, you can't outsmart physics.
Always use the other guy's spare tire.
Get pictures!