I Am NOT a Pyromaniac!

Really I'm not. I'm just efficient. If a bit of gasoline is good to get the brushfire going- in the middle of the field, far from the trees, grass soaked around the brush, hose on standby- then a gallon of gas is better? Right? Right?!? The concussive force of the explosion knocked me down, and I lit a good 40' gas trail- you know, to be safe. It rattled windows so badly that our elderly neighbors thought the commies had finally started the big one. I had to argue vociferously to dissuade them from calling the fire department. Which was made harder when the top of an 80' tree caught fire. Just briefly though. So no worries. No te preocupes. Lesson learned. Sometimes less is more. No more uncontrolled fires for me. Right? Right?!? The boys are grown and gone. I'm alone on a mtn peak preparing to burn a small- honest it was small- not more than 8' around and 6' high- less than a quarter the size of the last momentous occasion. No access to running water so I made sure to set it in the dug out basement of the forthcoming mountain house. 12' tall walls of raw dirt surrounded us on three sides. And no gasoline. Well- very little. VERY little!!! Less than a cup! Very safe. Very efficient. Right? Right?!? No initial explosion, no big boom. Simple efficient, total ignition of the brush pile. Proper calibration of liquid encouragement to woody mass. Basic math. Everything was going just fine until out of nowhere a sirocco gale force wind howled UP the mountain and scattered burning embers and leaves over those same tall dirt walls. 15 minutes of increasingly frantic and failed effort attempting to beat out the multiple ground fires later, and with the flames over my head, I was close to dying from an exertion and stress heart attack. I called 911, knowing that we were so far out in the woods- nearest town 30 minutes drive away, that I was going to be the cause of a real forest fire. The first four wheel drive forestry service small truck tanker showed up eleven minutes later. ELEVEN!! how?!? God bless our volunteers. 6 hours, 7 fire trucks, 12 firefighters and 3 crispy acres later, the fire was out. No one hurt. Only our land lightly charred. When I approached the fire chief at the end, determined to pay the tens of thousands of dollars cost and/or serve the jail time- I thanked all the firefighters profusely and apprehensively asked him what the consequences were going to be. His reply: "Next time get a fire permit first. Also might be a good idea to have some water on hand." I've learned my lesson. Really I have. I'm not a pyromaniac. Efficiency be damned. No more gasoline. Right?