The Basement Window Non-Miss

It was as if the dark-side forces were really miffed that I had escaped the shame of shattering a very expensive picture widow in my last misadventure. They plotted to get even with me on a different occasion not too far in the future. Lori and I now lived in the homestead house on 29th avenue. My interest in rockets had not diminished. I still dabbled in both fireworks and rocketry. I was a bit more cautious about conducting tests, as least as far as trying to diminish the risk to human beings. But the risks to houses and windows was alas, still considerable, as you will soon see.

My reputation as a firebug had grown within the circle of my acquaintances in the Ridgefield Ward. I now had a young protege whose name was Alex Zwingly. He was the 15-year-old son of good friends of ours in the ward. I was quite delighted to take him under my wing and teach him all the fascinating knowledge of the pyrotechnic arts I had acquired over the years. I suppose the best lesson I taught him was that the hobby is dangerous and perhaps not worth the consequences of the inevitable accidents.

On this occasion, we had planned to do yet another static test firing of a black power rocket motor. I tried to be prepared for the unexpected. I constructed a blast shield of sorts, behind which Alex and I would stand as we ignited the rocket motor. The test stand was mounted on a table placed in the back yard, a good 30 yards from the East-facing side of the house. Our launch pad control center was located about 20 feet away from the test stand. This was where the shield was located. It consisted of a piece of plywood to which I had attached a piece of plexiglass. The plywood was mounted vertically, with the plexiglass on the top edge, so that Alex and I could view the test stand through the plexiglass window. Thus, we would be protected from any deadly bits of flying debris in the event that the motor over-pressured and exploded. Again, I was feeling a tad-bit overconfident that my high-tech blast shield would prevent all manner of consequences from any mishaps due to the test-firing. What could possibly go wrong??

Well, Alex pressed the ignition button and the rocket roared into life. All went well for about 58 milliseconds. Then, there was a nice loud POW, followed by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. The motor had indeed over-pressured, but it didn’t exactly explode. Apparently, the clay nozzle of the rocket motor had been ejected out of the rocket motor tube, just like a cannon ball. I suppose it was a good example of the law of averages. All the incredible good luck I had had during past disasters had finally run out. The clay nozzle managed to sail all the way over to the house and took out one of the basement windows. At least it only broke one of the outer storm-window panes. The inner windowpane was still intact, so the damage wasn’t so severe that the TV room in the basement was exposed to the elements. The window is still broken to this day, another testament to my lack of foresight. Who knew that I had constructed a mortar shell instead of a properly functioning rocket motor?? Oh, well…. Alex thought it was all great fun and excitement. He will have a great story to tell his grandchildren someday. At least, no one could say I was derelict in my efforts to protect life and limb. Our high-tech blast shield worked perfectly to keep us safe during the explosion.