I lost a leg after I was injured fighting a fire that threatened to rupture a dozen one-pound bottles of propane sitting on the passenger seat of a pickup truck, right next to a two gallon jug of kerosene, with a contractor-sized box of roofing nails on top. Basically it was like the driver had built himself a bomb without even thinking about it, and he was mortified that it happened. He didn't mean any harm. He was just buying supplies for his fishing cabin and the engine in his thirty year old pickup caught fire. One thing led to another but it never went boom. And it would have been a drag if it had, because this happened on the street in front of a nursing home.
Ruptured gas bottles will make a complete mess of you. Even the little ones. And this one was not a little one. I always cringe when I see people in action films using them like mortars, pounding the valve off the top as though that would just send it flying. We even had a group of kids at camp one year, with a group of idiot adult leaders paying no attention at all, build a campfire up to enormous size, burning a half cord of firewood at one time and probably well above forging temperatures, decide to toss a propane bottle into the fire and wait and see.
We sent them home. The release valve worked and the bottle didn't rupture but I had to evacuate the kids from the campsite. That was a bad night for those suburban nitwit leaders. They were a bunch of Wall Street types who instantly tried buying their way out of culpability. They were never allowed back to that camp.

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