When I was young (and stupid), I worked in a tire store. There were about four of us working one evening and we decided to purchase some beer after we closed up shop. So, at about 6:30 on a Saturday night, we discussed how much air a rim and tire could hold before it let go.
We took a passenger tire and rolled it about 50 yards outside the shop. We hooked some air hoses together, and adjusted to compressor's regulator to 180#. Since the air hose was activated by a foot pedal on the tire changing machine, we didn't have to get close to air it up.
We used a clip on valve connector, and put a brick on the air station's foot pedal. We all got behind the service truck in the first bay and watched... and waited, and watched.... Nothing! 180 PSI on bias ply passenger tire. No boom, nothing. So, now what? We hadn't thought of what to do with a tire that had 180psi in it. No one wanted to walk out and let the air out. After quite a bit of discussion, we figured we had two options. 1. Cut the air hose, and let the air out that way, or 2. shoot the tire with a .22 that one of the guys had in his car. We didn't want to cut the air hose because we'd have to explain the damaged hose to the boss the next day. Of course, we selected option 2.
Phil (name changed to protect the guilty) got his .22 revolver out of his truck. Please understand that this is in a city environment. We didn't want anyone to hear the noise of the .22, so Phil decided to make a silencer from a piece of pipe and some steel wool.
Once again, we all took cover, and Phil lined up for the shot. Just before he pulled the trigger, HOLY HELL broke out!!! The tire decided it was time to give up the ghost. Pieces of tire went everywhere. The boom/hiss/cussing/running was overwhelming. Most of the tire was intact, but small fragments from the sidewall were spread over an area about the size of Texas.
We just knew somebody would call the cops, so we decided to get rid of the beer, hide as much evidence as we could, lock up the shop and get out of Dodge. A few blocks from the shop, I saw a police officer heading back the way I came. I looked over my shoulder for days, and somehow, the ogre of a boss never found out.
