First rifle, a Numrich Minuteman in .36 flint. I was cleaning it one day when the jag came off in the barrel. Now what? After trying for a while to re-screw it on the rod, I decided that if I get a little powder into the barrel via the touchhole, I could shoot it out. But where? I was living in a rented half-house with a separate garage. Now, with such a small amount of powder in the barrel, I could shoot if up against the garage wall and get the jag back. Thus, with careful aim, the rifle fired with a louder than expected “poof”. The jag went through the garage wall. Luckily there was a 4’ X 8’ sheet of ¾” flake board behind the wall and the jag imbedded itself in it. Fortunately that flake board prevented an unwanted hole in the side of my car that was in the garage. If I had been so dumb today I could chalk it up to a senior moment. But then I was in my mid-20s, so maybe the stupidity of youth?
