Around age 12, I got one of those little compound bow beginner kits. Of course, the first month I went around sticking arrows in anything that could get stuck by arrows. Did you know that my grandfather's 1955 40-hourse Farmall tractor tire took six rounds of arrows before going down? It was a tough sucker.
That got boring, so being a fan of “The Dukes of Hazzard” as I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut-up T-shirts doused in chain saw gas, tied around the end of my arrrow and firing flaming arrows all over the place.