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My BAD with propane.
This is an unedited off the cuff response to requests for 'the story'. The pacing isn't professional and it really isn't helpful advice unless you find yourself surrounded by idiots. But it is a funny read. 

The take away is some people should not be allowed stuff that can explode. "Oh The Murphy is strong in that one." 

   The sleepy little logging town of Nakusp British Columbia had hardly woken up. Despite the fact they woke up earlier than most of the sleepy little towns found south of Revelstoke and North East of Kelowna. The growing and harvesting of BC unofficial cash crop had not changed Nakusp. No logs and logging was the official crop and discussion to the contrary was met with displeasure. A displeasured lumber jack, prior to having his coffee, after sleeping off a fifth of Jack. Kind of displeased. 

   We rounded the corner into town, filled up with water and fuel, and various adult beverages from the type of corner store gas station later to be made popular in a TV series. The Barth was silver old, and drank fuel like a Russian sea captain sipped vodka. We had in fact stopped twice to climb under and look for leaks. Surely a fuel gauge you could see moving in a tank the size of a swimming pool was not right. We had found none, and were rotating our newly acquired credit cards to prevent an early end to our grand adventure. Shawn’s father owned the beast and so he was driving. Keith was riding shotgun, and I was sitting in the back trying to perform advanced math and work out dive tables. Three things were wrong with this. I always drove whenever we went anyplace. I was not a better driver; I just had the Scott factor and the wiggle. I was nobody, and I was at least twice as lucky as I was stupid and had a strange ability in being able to know just how much wiggle we had on the outside bits of any vehicle. Shawn should be riding shotgun, as he always did, years of forged immunity prevented him from looking for the brake or reaching for the Jesus handle. Keith was good at math. We were doomed and we had yet to really begin. 

The idea had been concocted late at night and it was an adventure. Arrow Lake is not a natural lake. It was flooded to make upper and lower Arrow lakes. It is in about 100 feet of water and while the residents at the time had warning many coins and relics are found. But what had really made this adventure Grand was a bit of new information we had discovered. Reports of an elderly miner had surfaced. A miner who had made his fortune in the gold fields and fled to the townsite after the death of his wife, by thieves looking for gold. We had discovered a diary written by his only daughter. In it she discounted her fathers gold, insisting he made a decent living writing articles for papers and running his print shop. We had found the submerged print shop!! 

    The tanks clattered as we drove the aged Barth down a road better suited for a wagon. We had 22 tanks on board for the dive as each dive would be a decompression dive and we had no way to refill them. I would also be the solo diver. This was breaking the cardinal rule of diving, but I lasted a lot longer on a tank of air than anyone I knew and despite being a porky kid could dive US navy dive tables without getting bent. 

Arriving out our camp location just before nightfall filled us all with wonder and curiosity. I was felling a little more upbeat as we shared dinner and beers around the campfire. Tomorrow I would crash dive to the higher side of town and the water level was lower than previous years so our depth might only be 65 feet. Keith had finished inflating the rigid inflatable we would be using and most importantly we had avoided all eyes in getting to our spot. It wasn’t far from the spot populated in the summer months by tourists. But it was “out of prying eyes.”

    The morning brought hash browns, bacon, strong coffee, and pancakes. We had all slept well, and the Barth hadn’t drank anymore fuel overnight. The fact it had been turned off had not seemed to factor into our surprise. We were on a sloped angle with the back of the Barth pointed toward the lake. This hid our work area, the picnic table and fire pit. It also allowed us to pull the rigid up out of the lake and into the trees. An aging pit toilet, (wooden outhouse) was a straight line down the slope from the drivers rear corner. Shawn was down at the lake getting the electric trolling motor working in the rigid and Keith was moving tanks from inside the Barth down and into the boat. I had twin tanks adapted with an older regulator, and my Viking drysuit laid out on the picnic table. I wasn’t diving with a buoyancy compensator, as they were uncommon then, and had just finished checking my rig when Keith returned from the boat. He was excited and happily helped me lift the heavy twin tanks and check the fit.

“Shawns taking a dump but the batteries are good and the boat is still full of air. It sits fine with the six tanks so we should be good to go.” He said taking the tanks off and placing them at his feet. “You good to get going?” He asked.  

“I am going to grab a smoke and see if the coffee has any effect before getting into that.” I said pointing to the galvanized rubber drysuit. “Where the f*&k did I put my lighter and smokes.”

“On the inside table.” Keith said moving down toward the boat. 

“Right” I replied heading back to retrieve them. 

When I returned I saw Keith had put the tanks upright on the end of the picnic table. A big no no in the world of diving. But, we weren't on a boat so the table wasn’t likely to move. I had slipped out of my cloths and the cool morning air was making me want to pull on the rubber suit and messing with my fine motor dexterity just a little, as I dropped my zippo for the second time. I pulled out my cigarette as Keith appeared around the other side of the Barth. 

“Whoa, that should come with a warning label.” He said pointing at the red speedo. 
I stuck the cigarette in my mouth flipped the zippo and lit it.
“Yeah? You Mom asked if it came with an ingredients…” My feet slid on the dewy grass down into a small depression behind the Barth. 
I dropped my Zippo for a third time. This time it was lit. 
I landed on my ass. The WHUMPF of this impact was significantly louder than the perceived impact on my ass. 
Louder and warmer.
I saw fire and Keith moving toward the lake, and I started rolling in a downward direction as well. Some how in this conflagration the “stable” picnic table got hit. Perhaps it was the explosion, perhaps Keith, or maybe I rolled into it. No one knows, or at least no one is saying. 

The result was known to all. 

The joined tanks tumbled off the table and struck the steel fire pit ring perfectly. Right at the top apex of the joining pipe. This sheared off both aging J valves. Around this time all the lower storage doors blow out, and quite a few, off the Barth. The lead filled plastic backpack does very little to slow the filled, till the stickers stretched, tanks. These become a missile and fire up out of the fire pit and back at the Barth. 

I am aware that my speedo is suffering from some fire abuses and that my hair must be too as I can smell it. 

Keith is yelling I am ok I am Ok I AM OK. Like some kind of mantra.
The fire gone. I pat my head and feel the frizz of burned but still present hair. Parts of my Speedo have melted thru in spots similar to how a tornado destroys some houses completely and spares others. Keith looks like a famous Boxing promoter, his eyes wide with shock. 

We both hear; “F#*K, F&*K< FUK” repeated loudly and then screaming. Small things are on fire. But nothing that would be the cause of this new mantra.

Then we both see it at once. The outhouse is destroyed. Pieces of its green exterior litter the area from where it stood to the lake. The sound is coming from the lower twenty inches remaining. We both start to run and I yell “rope”. 

Keith grabs the line I was going to use as a drop line and quickly catches up to me, as he has shoes on, and doesn’t have to contend with little spots of nylon pulling little pieces of flesh from his ass. 

Shawn is in the outhouse. Well, in the area of the outhouse one delivers to. We toss the line and he climbs up and heads for the lake. “What the f45k, I am taking a shit and you two retards nuke my F8&King outhouse. Boom missile strike Ha Ha very funny Motherf&^ers” 

“Stop talking you're going to get that in your mouth.”  Keith helpful advice was not met with kind observance. 

The doomed and downtrodden after action report.

Seems that the bouncing had created a slow leak in two 25 pound portable tanks used for the outside BBQ and fire pit adaptor. The fuel vapor had pooled in the lower areas of the Barth before flowing down to ground, following the slope to the lake. Pooling in lower ground depressions. My lighter had set that off. 

The air tanks had launched, hit the Barth and bounced up before crashing down onto the outhouse’s corner. Thankfully not the corner Shawn was in. The force destroyed the outhouse and wash of compressed air blew pieces around like an explosion. Shawn denied a solid structure to hold onto fell sideways into the pit. Luckily it was cold out.
Beast Master,JunkyMonkey,Drinks with Wolves,Fup'd Duck,Sheriff Ricochet Cockroach 4B's 1 cluster,3 TFMS Tempory Weirdo Overlord replacement 
[-] The following 2 users say Thank You to Scott7022 for this post:
  • Putts (09-19-2017), Gunny (09-19-2017)
OH MY GAWD... THAT is freaking hilarious!!! I'm sure that there wasn't a whole lot of levity in the immediate aftermath, but the reselling is awesome!!! Well done!
1995 Coachmen B19 rear dinette, E250 chassis, 351W & E4OD trans
2006 Born Free 32RQ on a Kodiak chassis, 8.1L V8 & Allison 5spd trans
2016 Jeep JKU 6spd stick
(09-18-2017, 08:50 AM)Scott7022 Wrote: This is an unedited off the cuff response to requests for 'the story'. The pacing isn't professional and it really isn't helpful advice unless you find yourself surrounded by idiots. But it is a funny read. 

The take away is some people should not be allowed stuff that can explode. "Oh The Murphy is strong in that one." 
    Luckily it was cold out.
LOLOLOLOL! And the last comment, "Luckily it was cold out" was priceless!
Thanks for the morning laugh. Tongue
 The Captain and Crew Finally got their stuff together. 
 Now if they can only remember where they put it.   Rolleyes
Oh hells bells bwahahaha

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
I'm trying to get the visual image and laughing like a hyena. Great story.

Scott , It seems you're very very very lucky , lucky ,,, lucky!
The death defying stories just keep coming.
I'm gonna have to think on this for a bit.......................................
Stay Tuned

Weirdo Overlord  YARC 
15 "Stinkin'Badges"  a "Full Monty Badge" 2 "Just Ignore Me" clusters  4 "Pine Cone" clusters  one "Stinkin' Badger" and 7 of the coveted "Flying Manure Spreader"awards
1 of which is a limited edition Turkey Poop Spreader (What a "Stinkin' " honor !)

Does that go in your next book? Rotflmao
Thanks all,

I am glad you found it funny. Actually after Shawn got out of the cold lake we all started to laugh. It was humorous and no one died. To this day if any of us say; "Arc-light my position" it will get all of us laughing hysterically.

This didn't stop our adventure. We did dive the lake and did find the old foundation of the Print Shop. We didn't find any gold. Honest!

Yeah I have been blessed with a livery stable crammed up my butt! I think it is like I said on another thread. Attitude and what you expect is what you attract. I get my share of damn that sucks. But, I usually can see the better side of most situations.

I think when my day comes, and come it will. I will look at my last surviving shoulder angel, I already killed the good one, and say; "Well, that didn't go as per usual did it? Did it make good copy at least?"

Go out with your hair on fire, naked, doing 100, standing on the dashboard of life, scissors in hand, and chewing gum.

Cue Free Bird. Scene (last) Devils Rejects....
Beast Master,JunkyMonkey,Drinks with Wolves,Fup'd Duck,Sheriff Ricochet Cockroach 4B's 1 cluster,3 TFMS Tempory Weirdo Overlord replacement 
(09-19-2017, 12:35 AM)Scott7022 Wrote: Thanks all,
Cue Free Bird. <--

OK, if you insist. Cool
 The Captain and Crew Finally got their stuff together. 
 Now if they can only remember where they put it.   Rolleyes
Sort of fits the "Damn That Sucks" idea



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