Georgia Magazine - December 2022 - 35

My GEORGIA
By Christopher D. Walter
The Tater Tosser 3000
T
here will be a time
in the future when
an astronaut or
alien will be floating
around in space,
working on something,
when a potato goes
whizzing past his or her
head. The potato will have
been in orbit for decades-
passing every planet in the solar
system, making it to the far edges of the Milky Way
and approaching the speed of light in some parts
of its journey before turning and heading back
toward Earth.
How do I know this? I was there when it
launched.
In the early '90s, there was a craze that swept
many rural communities. The potato gun became
synonymous with backwoods, Friday-evening fun.
I wish I knew how the idea for this contraption
came up. More than likely it was a bunch of drunk
guys with some rotten produce and too much time
on their hands.
I don't even know if there is an actual plan for a
potato gun; it's really just loose guidelines. You need
a PVC pipe, a gas propellant, a potato and an igniter.
Put those all together and you have something that
can launch a spud half a football field or more.
E
T R
Then my dad came into the picture.
He couldn't just construct anything normal.
It had to be over-the-top. If he was going to
make a gun, he was going to make sure it
did what a gun is supposed to do: maim
or kill. This is how the Tater Tosser 3000
was born.
This lethal device was about 5-1/2 feet
long. There was a 3-foot pipe on the front that
connected to a wider, 2-foot-long combustion
chamber in the back. On the sides were two tubes. One
had an electric igniter ripped out of a gas grill. The other had a pressure
gauge on it and was to be connected to a propane tank.
Yes, that is correct. A propane tank.
I was there for the maiden launch of the first potato in our yard in
Barnesville. We nestled the potato gun in some cinder blocks and extended
the igniter cord a good 100 feet in case it were to explode. The target was
a playhouse in the backyard, a sturdy little building constructed with
pressure-treated lumber.
When that thing went off, it rattled windows half a mile away. The
potato shot out so quickly that we never even saw it, but we sure did hear it.
A few minutes later, when we were sure there was no gas leak, we went
to inspect the damage. All that was left of the playhouse were split 2-by-4s
covered in mashed potatoes. The power was incredible, and it was only a
matter of hours before every single potato in my hometown was purchased
and riding in my dad's big, red, utility van to be stored in our pantry,
aka the armory.
The next couple of months we experimented every evening to see what
would be the best combination of potato species and propane pressure.
The goal was to launch to the railroad tracks about 3 acres away from the
house. Dad would launch, and we kids would go running to mark where
the potato would land and to warn pedestrians of incoming mortars.
Then one day it happened. We picked the fattest, roundest potato
we could. Dad cranked up the pressure, and " Whoom! " The potato went
straight up and never came back down. That is how I know that, sometime
in the early '90s, a perfectly round Yukon Gold left this earthly plane and
began its journey to deep space.
I don't know what ever happened to the Tater Tosser 3000 and its
custom accessories, including a ramrod and silencer. I do know that my
father loved that thing so much that the idea was floated to shoot his ashes
out of it after he died. And as much as I like awkward situations, I'm really
glad that didn't happen.
I do hope, though, that I am still around when the news report comes
in that an astronaut got hit by a Yukon Gold from deep space.
Christopher D. Walter is an artist and writer who lives in Lawrenceville
and is a member of Monroe-based Walton Electric Membership Corp. To see
more of his work, go to kudzuandclay.com.
www.georgiamagazine.org
35
CHRISTOPHER D. WALTER
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http://www.kudzuandclay.com http://www.georgiamagazine.org
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