Electrical Education

I had a strong fascination with electricity when I was a kid – still do; only now, I also have a healthy respect for it. After I learned the hard way its not really something to play with.

I was six years old. My parents had gone away on a trip, leaving my brother and I with some of their friends to watch us at our house. As anyone knows, it’s much easier to get away with things you normally wouldn’t be able to do when your parents aren’t around. I should have been content with that but no; I chose to take the opportunity to attempt to electrocute myself. That wasn’t my intention - that’s just the way it turned out.

In my dad’s toolbox, I found a short piece of bare wire, about eight inches long, with an alligator clip attached to one end. I took the wire to my room, not really knowing what for at that point. But, I figured there had to be something exciting I could do with it. There was.

In my room, I had a small metal wall heater located about four inches from a plugin. For some reason, I thought it’d be a good idea to attach the alligator clip to the heater and then insert the other end into the plug. I guess I wanted to see what would happen. What happened was, the instant the wire made contact, I got a severe jolt, as blue and orange sparks flew. But that wasn’t the worst of it. My little miniature arc welder welded the alligator clip to the heater and the other end to the plug. And then it melted the skin on my forefinger and thumb together around the wire.

Of course, the burning feeling and continuous surging of electricity caused me to jerk my hand back. The only result of that was my fingers slid smoothly down the wire; I couldn’t let go. At some point, I started yelling – probably the very second I felt the first volt enter my fingers. Everyone in the house rushed into my room where my plight was quite obvious. The guy who rescued me said later, he knew that if he’d touched me or the wire he’d have wound up in the same predicament as I. Lucky for me, he also knew what to do.

He quickly removed his thick leather belt, and I thought I was getting a spanking. Instead, he looped the belt around the wire and gave it a quick pull. The relief was instant! No more shocking and burning feeling! Still, one small problem remained; my fingers were still melded together. A little persuasion from a pocketknife and I again had the use of all five digits on that hand.

I still have the scars on my finger and thumb but I don’t think I need them to remember the experience. The incident left a rather searing impression on my brain as well and I never attempted a repeat performance. But, I have a son who a lot of people say is a lot like me – right down to his early and unhealthy interest in electricity.

He was three at the time. We were at my parent’s house and like his father; he decided plugins were meant to have things, other than a plug, inserted into them – keys in this instance. Unlike his father, he was able to let go but not before creating his own artistic display of fireworks and making a unique set of black marks on the wall. He suffered no long-term ill effects (we think) but never seemed to want to discuss the incident much. However, his interest in electricity wasn’t totally dispelled. In fact, this past week, he started Lineman College. Apparently, he too, decided electricity isn’t something to play with – he’s going to make a career of it.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Kids Do Dumb Stuff

Kids do dumb stuff sometimes. Not an earth-shattering statement, I realize. Doing dumb things is part of growing up. And the great part is that everyone alive is either a kid or once was a kid – so everybody can relate – whether they want to admit it or not. Some don’t, but I will.

I can’t remember if I was six or seven at the time, but the rest I recall quite well. A friend and I were walking from my house to his – just across the street. As we crossed the road, we noticed a car approaching in the distance. For some reason, we both suddenly stopped walking and faced the oncoming car with arms stretched out like we were daring the driver to hit us.

At the same instant, we both realized that the white car coming toward us was a state patrol vehicle. “Cop!” we yelled, and made a mad dash for the bushes surrounding his house. Then, staying out of sight, we retreated behind the shed. Our efforts to escape were futile, however. A few seconds later, the officer pulled into the driveway and went to ring the bell. My friend’s Mom listened as the cop explained why he was there and then she came looking for us.

For the next several minutes, we were treated to a lecture about how dangerous our behavior was. I remember thinking, Does he really think we’re dumb enough to stand there and wait until the car runs us over? Apparently, he did, because when I asked him, he repeated how dangerous it was and said that we could’ve been killed. Eventually, the cop left. My friend’s Mom didn’t really say a whole lot – just shook her head. I guess she figured we’d learned our lesson.

But, remember what I said about kids doing dumb stuff?

It continued to bother me that the cop actually thought I’d simply stand there in the street with a car coming and not move – long before it had a chance to hit me. I’m not sure who I was trying to prove it to, certainly not the cop, who I never saw again, but several months later, I decided to try it again. Not wanting to get my friend in trouble, this time, I was alone. I chose a darker colored car, but other than that, everything was much the same. Same street, same place. And at about the same distance, I realized the approaching car was a county cop! Twice in a row! What were the odds?

No, I didn’t get in trouble again. Why? Let’s just say that one kid can effectively disappear a whole lot easier than two.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit http://www.bruceaborders.com/. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

And I Lived ToTell About It

I think it must be a prerequisite of being a child to periodically scare one's parents half to death, along with as many other people as possible. I know my kids were no exception - and neither was I.

For example, when I was six years old, one of my favorite activities was riding a minibike my dad had bought for my brother and me. A red Honda 50 with automatic gears - no clutch for my small hands to struggle to operate. This particular minibike however, had an annoying propensity to kick out of gear of its own volition - usually at the most inconvenient time. Normally, this amounted to little more than aggravation; all it took was a slight bit of pressure from the left foot and the gears were engaged again. I'd ridden the minibike many times, knew the drill and always seem to control the bike - but remember, I was only six years old.

One bright sunny day, my parents and some of their friends were outside watching as my brother and I took turns riding around our "track." The track consisted of a few trails through the trees and hills. One of those hills was rather steep and long - about 25 feet high and close to twice that long. For me, the hill was much more fun to climb than to come down, and I usually didn't. That day, for some reason, I wound up at the top and decided to ride down. Just as I straightened out the handlebars, the minibike did its thing, kicking out of gear, sending me free wheeling down the hill. With nothing to hold it back, my speed quickly increased. At that moment, I had several options; I could brake, put it back in gear, or since it was quite a ways to the street, I could've turned in either direction. I did none of those. Instead, I froze, my hands stuck firmly on the grips, staring and riding straight ahead. Later, I was told that everyone had been shouting instructions, but I heard nothing.

I can only imagine the helpless feeling my parents must have had as they watched me racing toward the busy street - and unable to stop me. As for me, I remember a strange feeling of being along for an unwanted ride to my doom and being powerless to do anything about it. I also remember a blue car going by in front of me as I neared the street. What I didn't see was the old man in the red pickup coming from the other direction. As the minibike hurtled across the road, the driver of the pickup had little time to react. Before he knew what was happening, I was directly in front of him. My parents, along with everyone else, thought I was about to become a greasy spot on the road. But, somehow I made it. The truck missed me by only inches. I shot on across the street, jumped a ditch on the other side, and slammed into a fence, which put an end to my wild ride, rather abruptly.

The driver of the pickup was so shaken; he pulled over to the side of the road and just sat there for a while. Everyone else was plenty excited too - except me. I was greatly relieved that it was over! And I had no desire to get back on the minibike. Lucky for me, although my dad was obviously unsettled and apprehensive, he insisted I go for another ride - right away. Reluctantly, I did and sort of regained my confidence. Eventually, I was back to riding as if nothing had happened. Almost. To this day, I have never ridden anything down that hill. Scaring my parents was one thing, scaring myself was quite another. I don't think it's supposed to work that way.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and 9 books. Over My Dead Body, his latest ebook, is available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®. For more information, visit http://www.bruceaborders.com/ or http://overmydeadbody.jimdo.com/.