January 23, 2021:
A single miniature snap from a single cap struck by the aluminum hammer of a child's derringer-sized cap gun was simply inadequate.
To compensate I bought caps by rolls of rolls, the size of Lincoln Logs, ten rolls per log. Laying a full roll on the sidewalk I'd smash it with an iron hammer: BAM! Where that was satisfying.
The 5th of July was another opportunity. We learned to collect not-entirely-spent balls of sulphur and other chemicals from the playing field at Whittier Elementary, where they landed after fireworks night next door at the South Clairemont Recreation Center. We scooped them by the bagful, lighting them later with matches or even magnifying glasses for highly satisfying flumes and sprays of golden or cherry or silver flames.
Although we were always careful — we did this in the street or on the asphalt basketball courts where nothing flammable was nearby — it amazes me in hindsight that there was never adult intervention. It's not like we were hiding it. It was all right there in the open: BAM!.
Nowadays they'd lock us away.