Once school was out we disappeared into the woods and nobody knew where we were or what we were doing until dinnertime. At 13 I rode my bicycle about 6 miles to the hobby shop to buy fuel (alcohol/castor oil/nitromethane) for my Cox Baby Bee. Mother wouldn’t allow me to go shooting by myself or I’d have done that, too. As it was we made our own bazooka rockets until a neighbor kid blew his hand apart with one.
“ As it was we made our own bazooka rockets until a neighbor kid blew his hand apart with one.”
People here shouldn’t kid themselves. We got hurt. And killed
No one got abducted.
That’s the problem now.
It’s worse than any of those injuries combined. It’s unthinkable.
When I was 13-14 some of us kids rode the 4 miles to town with our guns across the handlebars and went to the hardware to trade these guns for others.
My brother won a candy selling contest when he was in 9th grade, one of the prizes he could choose was a semi auto 22 rifle and of course thats what he took. They gave it to him at school and he brought it home on the bus. That was about 1967.