Airgunning gone bad
- Thread starter JAMz
- Start date
Dead on, clipped the bone, don't know if the nail will grow back, off a few degrees, twice the size, but I can use it on the trigger, very important.
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Well, I know one thing, a .25 cal JSB King at 800 fps through my 2nd digit is horrifically painful. Went right through the bone and DIP joint. Broke both the middle and distal phalanges.
How did I accomplish such a task?
Edgun Leshiy. Had just gotten it, was out in the yard and got a bead on a squirrel. 1st shot winged it, fur only. I quickly reloaded and brought the gun up for a second. Here's where muscle memory came in to play and can be a bad thing. The gun was so short, far shorter than any other gun I've ever shot. In my haste, somehow my left 2nd finger got out in from of that 250mm barrel. The shock was pretty amazing... followed by searing pain so bad I was sick. Bled for hours.
Told the ER doc I shot it with a nail gun.
It will never be the same. Cant bend it all the way anymore.
Stay safe out there.
How did I accomplish such a task?
Edgun Leshiy. Had just gotten it, was out in the yard and got a bead on a squirrel. 1st shot winged it, fur only. I quickly reloaded and brought the gun up for a second. Here's where muscle memory came in to play and can be a bad thing. The gun was so short, far shorter than any other gun I've ever shot. In my haste, somehow my left 2nd finger got out in from of that 250mm barrel. The shock was pretty amazing... followed by searing pain so bad I was sick. Bled for hours.
Told the ER doc I shot it with a nail gun.
It will never be the same. Cant bend it all the way anymore.
Stay safe out there.
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I accidentally brought a bb pistol to school in 4th grade. It was in there from camping at my friends over the weekend. Come Monday and I was in the principals office with my mom on the way to take it home. Different times. I got an earful and went back to class.
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Years ago my 17 year old son and I were involved in local DCM Matches. I purchased a Weihrauch and Anschutz target air rifles to practice off hand shooting. My son would set up a practice target out our back patio. Pellets fired went into a grass bank. My son had all his "target" clothes on including Creedmore Shooting Jacket. He shot about 5 pellets when the police came to the door. It was reported that he was shooting at horses about 200 yards in the distance. My son showed the officer what his setup was and they were satisfied. Police were called out 3 more times by the same old lady next door. My son finally gave up his practice as he was afraid a SWAT team would be next.
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You would have never survived the 60's if that little whiskey dent derailed your emotions to that extent.
We had WARS with RedRiders,used trash can lids for shields.
Received many massive welts and sub dermal punctures from close range engagements.
We put rocks in dirt clod battles as well so......
We all grew up to be men and just aged gender.
We had WARS with RedRiders,used trash can lids for shields.
Received many massive welts and sub dermal punctures from close range engagements.
We put rocks in dirt clod battles as well so......
We all grew up to be men and just aged gender.
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Ah, the memories. Add, rule +1, max 3 pumps if you had a pumper.
And run like the wind for home when the street lights came on...
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Don't forget the cow pies, hard enough on the outside so you could pick it up and throw it yet soft on the inside so that it splat and cover your opponent. Oh the simpler days of our youth.
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This brings back a particularly shameful memory from my youth. My wife has always wondered why I go out of my way to tolerate the Robins that nest all over our homestead, and this is why. Still working on some old bad karma...
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That sounds like growing up in the early 80's in rural Ohio as well, and add in jousting with brooms and trash can lids on three wheelers and hitting rocks at each other with tennis rackets. We had a rich and fun childhood.
My friends had a pond/swamp with dirt mounds behind their house that served as a battlefield for our neighborhood BB gun wars. Most of us had pumps by that time and agreed to the 2-3 pumps rule, but we also occasionally threw in marbles from slingshots in an indirect fire capacity. Really unsafe but I can't help laughing thinking about walking the marbles in and the times we got close enough to get them yelling or actually hit somebody hiding behind a mound or downed tree they were using for cover.
That all ended when we were around 14 and one of the guys got upset and took a pot-shot at his brother while we were walking back in from shooting in the fields. His brother took one on the cheek right under his eye, which turned into a show of "brotherly love". After the dust settled we agreed to say he got smacked in the face by a branch, but collectively also agreed that was the end of the BB gun wars of Timberlane. Fitting end to that chapter of our lives and probably coincided with the transition to chasing girls as a primary pastime...
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