Feb. 2008

I'm Going To Report You For Throwing Bombs!

I don't recall the exact moment in my U.S. Army career that I discovered the joys of backfiring, but once I did, I was hooked.

Now I know the correct terminology for an explosion in the exhaust system is "after firing", but I'll use the incorrect term because everyone else seems to use it.

I think I first experienced a backfire by accident while motoring around in a jeep at Ft. Hood, Texas in 1792. I remember accidentally turning the ignition switch off and then back on again. The delay in turning it back on was long enough to allow enough unburned gas into the exhaust system, that a nice backfire was the result.

Well, once was not enough. I shut it off again, waited a few seconds, then turned it on again…

BLAM!

Oh yes, I could see the beginning of a long love affair with the jeep backfire.

From Ft. Hood I went to Germany. I don't remember why, but I didn't do a lot of backfiring over there. One reason could be because I didn't do a lot of driving. I spent my time watching grass grow on top of earth-covered bunkers storing scary stuff

From Germany it was on to Savanna, IL and more bunkers. The only problem with backfiring out there was that there were no real "targets" and it would just sound like space aliens coming to reclaim their property. So, I put the backfiring on hold, and instead we played "spotlight polo".

On each maintenance and similar building, there were security lights with photo electric cells to turn them off and on. On the night shift, the object of the game was to stay in motion and, using the roof-mounted spotlight in the truck, "shoot" out as many lights as possible as you drove around the complex. Of course, they were only out for a minute or two.

This was important practice. Had terrorists attacked using photo cells, we could have shot them out!

I really didn't have much fun with the backfire until I got to the Presidio of San Francisco in 1975. My unit at the Presidio liked to go out on field training exercises every other month. This required loading up the jeeps and "deuce and a half" trucks and heading out to the Mojave Desert (Ft. Irwin), and other fun vacation spots.

For me, the fun was in getting there. On those old jeeps, the tail pipe exited behind the left rear tire and pointed to the left, perpendicular to the jeep body. In other words, right into the ear of someone in the left lane with their window down.

Our convoy would travel in the right lane, of course. I would watch the left lane for just the right target, an unsuspecting driver with their passenger window down. There were always plenty of good targets.

I would watch the target approach and, when they were about 3 to 4 seconds away, I would shut off the ignition. When their window was even with my tailpipe I would switch it back on.

BLAM!

Never did I fail to get a favorable reaction. That reaction was sheer shock signaled by an obvious jump in the seat, and usually a very short loss of directional control of the vehicle. In other words, as their head violently turned to the right to see what had just blown their wig off, they would inevitably jerk the steering wheel a little, causing a noticeable swerve.

Now, you might say this was dangerous as it could have caused someone to completely lose control of their vehicle. Well, I guess anything is possible. But, during my hundred or more ambushes on our convoy, I never saw anyone coming close to losing control of their vehicle. I'm sure I would have stopped had that been the case.

After one attack, I saw a man who had just taken an exit off the highway waving a hand-held radio and yelling something at me. Was he a cop? Did hams have HT's back in 1975? I don't know as I never saw him again. I guess he didn't want to tangle with a convoy of armed troops with vehicle timing problems. Or maybe he thought we were really "busting caps" and decided the exit was the place to be. I'll never know.

One of my best single-vehicle victims was the male driver of a UPS-type step van. He approached with the sliding door open, so I was basically powerless to let him have a free pass.

BLAM!

I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head! He was quite PO'd too. Maybe it was because I was laughing so hard.

I say he was my best single-vehicle victim because I did, on one occasion, engineer a backfire of mass destruction.

One of the missions of my unit was to provide military funeral services for veterans in northern California. On these details I was in charge of the firing squad. We also had a flag detail and a trumpeter to play Taps.

The important thing was that we traveled by bus. The more important thing was that on one trip, I was the bus driver.

It was a big bus. It had a huge exhaust system. The tailpipe exiting the rear of the bus looked like the bore of a 155 Howitzer. Would it backfire? If so, what would it sound like?

I waited until our return trip from some city north of San Francisco that I cannot recall. We had stopped for lunch somewhere along the way. We were on our final stretch and most of the troops were sound asleep.

If you've ever been to San Francisco, you're probably familiar with the Broadway Street tunnels. There's one going in each direction on Broadway street. If I remember correctly, they are two lanes wide and about a half-mile long.

We just happened to be half way through one of the tunnels, headed back to the Presidio. I was surrounded by vehicles. 

I was in the left lane. I eased the bus door open. I shut off the ignition. We decelerated as that huge exhaust system filled with unburned fuel and air.

I turned the key back to the "ON" position.

The word "BLAM" does not describe what happened next. It was more like a 40MM grenade had gone off in the tunnel! Troops who had been sleep shot up almost to the ceiling! Car tires were screeching and horns blowing. Why the exhaust system wasn't blown into a thousand pieces is unknown to me.

A woman pulled up next to our open door and yelled that she was going to report us for throwing bombs!

I was in tears.

To this day, when I stop behind a bus and see that big-bore tailpipe, I break out into laughter.

73,

WF5TX