Things generation x'rs will never know

Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum

Help Support Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum:

This site may earn a commission from merchant affiliate links, including eBay, Amazon, and others.
Yeah, I had a Crosman 760. Could pump it up to adjust the power. One pump barely got the BB out of the barrel, 10-12 was a real smoker. I missed it so much I took the opportunity to buy one of these when faced with a domestic vermin problem.

TXMIDDLE.jpg


Shoots only .22 pellets and is very accurate. 900fps and will put ten consecutive thru a pistol bulls eye at 10m. I head shoot rats and drink Budweiser on my off time. Yes, I grew up in Michigan before moving to Cali.

 
BTW, this thread is misstated. Gen Xer's, of which I am one, are born after baby boomers. Gen X is 1962-early 70's. Give or take. IT is Generation Digital that will miss all this stuff. Generation Digital did not have analog records. They only had CD's, computers and cable TV. Spoiled brats.

 
If you got a bb gun as a gift you were just hot. I think my dad still has mine. He kept it to shoot the neighbors cat(s).

We used to lag pennies against a wall. Made rubber band guns. No bb gun fights but used to have rock fights down at the field by the L.A. river(the wash).

 
Anyone else remember a knuckle-bruising card game we used to play in middle school in Charleston, South Carolina, called "Anerican Red, White and Blue?"

It was a cross between rummy and crazy-8s in which the loser suffered full-deck-of-cards whallops to his knuckles by each of the other players, equal to the number and color of cards remaining in the loser's hand: each black card was a "light tap" on the knuckles; each red card was a full armed, Pete-Townshend-axe-swingin' "crack!" that would truly leave a mark. :cry:

I'm thinkin' today's schools don't allow that playground game anymore...

 
I'm thinkin' today's schools don't allow that playground game anymore...
They don't even allow playgrounds anymore, why would they allow card games? No monkey bars because someone might fall down and go boom, no swings because someone might get hit in the head, no tether ball because someone could get choked by the rope, no see saw because their not fair to fat kids, and so on and so forth. You can't even open a window on a school bus anymore because some moron might fall out.

 
Orangevale we did much the same thing here minus the safety glasses, replaced by a strict rule.Anyone who shot anyone else above the neck had to face the firing squad up against the back of Kieth Robinson's house. It was all brick, no windows and a short but worrisome walk for the perp immediately off the tree nursery where we warred.

No defense was allowed by the perp, had to stand there and take it. We could shoot them anywhere we pleased as long as it was below the neck. Anyone refusing the firing squad of course got the hell shot out of them anyway, as well as a permanent ban from future participation. Only way back in was to face the firing squad which consisted of every player present.

We usually had 20 or so players making the firing squad a powerful deterrant.

Needless to say, most of us became fine marksmen and stealthy woodsmen. No one lost any eyes, all of us came back from Vietnam era service alive. Some highly decorated.

I credit the many years of tree nursery wars for it. It also ingrained a grateful respect for layered armor which still serves well from a motorcycling standpoint these many years later.

Those multi pump Pelliguns were a ***** !
A great game for ******* 2, oops ******* 3 now.

 
Let me see...

  • Running behind the DDT truck.
  • Putting a hole in my neighbor's plate glass window with a BB gun.
  • Getting paddled by the teacher in the hallway in Del Rio, TX. (Do they still do that? Of course! It's Texas. Duh!)
  • Going so high on the 15-foot-tall swing set at Torrance Beach, CA, to where you didn't know WHAT was going to happen next.
Baby Boomers Rule! :king:
Jb

 
Fact is, we have removed all the fun things from childhood that helped weed out the stupid and lazy ones, or at the very least accelerated their need to mature.

:)

And we wonder why society in general seems to continually degrade!

After breaking the family budget for balloons to rumble my spokes, my Dad actually bought me a Mattel Vroom bicycle. I was truly hated by all the neighbors from that day forward, except for the chik three houses down who preferred oral *** with motorcycle misfits. Ahhh, those WERE the days!

:yahoo:

 
According to Wiki

Silent Generation 1925–1945Baby Boomers 1940s-1960s

Beat Generation 1948–1962

Generation Jones 1954–1962

--------------------------------------------

Consciousness Revolution 1964–1984

Baby Busters 1958–1968

Generation X 1963–1978

MTV Generation 1974–1985

---------------------------------

Culture Wars 1980s–present

Boomerang Generation 1977–1986

Generation Y 1979–1999

Internet Generation 1988–1999

New Silent Generation 2000–2020
 
We used to cut off the end of a broom handle, put an old sock over it and fold it up several times to make a torch. Soak it in charcoal starter and light it up. Then fill mouth with same said charcoal starter and spit freakin' HUGE fireballs like Gene Simmons. That stuff tasted like ****, but it was a small price to pay if you were a true pyro. We also used to tape tin pop cans together end to end to make a "polish cannon" that shot tennis balls. Pre-cursor to the spud gun, the polish cannon was powered by Ronson lighter fluid, and would shoot tennis balls straight up and out of sight. Made a great bazooka too!

What memories....

 
Milk delivered by a man in an ugly white hat and leaving the doors unlocked (and/or open) at night......

 
Last edited by a moderator:
It used to take days to recover my short-term memory after being disrespectful to another person, especially a lady.

Oh yeah, all fires were started with gasoline. All fireworks worth having were still legal in S.C. And...

You were EXPECTED to know how to drive before taking Driver's Ed or getting a license.

I'm not going near the broom handle experience. Bad image. :)

 
Last edited by a moderator:
I only used a BB gun until I demonstrated to my dad that I knew how to handle it safely/responsibly - then I inherited his 22; the local gopher, crow, and magpie populations were decimated for years after. I remember hunting coyotes with a ski-doo and that 22 when I was 13. I was hunting ducks with a shotgun when I was so small that the recoil would knock me over if I shot from anything other than the prone position.

My best friend and I learned to drive in a 38 Ford his dad gave him that wouldn't run for more than 2 hours before breaking down. I was so short I had to climb into the engine compartment to work on it from above. Not long afterward, I was operating heavy farm equipment (try convincing a 13 year old boy he isn't king of the world when he's rolling down the road in a fully loaded grain truck).

I grew up pretty fast, but I can't remember ever wanting it any other way. I had more freedom than my son will ever know. I feel sorry for him, but when I try to explain why I loved doing the things I did, he stares at me like I'm nuts; ah well, time marches on.

Chris

 
Top