The summer night was surprisingly cool as the students crept out of their cars parked along the lone single-lane country road.

“We’re too close to that farmhouse down the road,” someone complained. “You guys, they’re going to see us and call the cops.”

“Nah,” another replied as he positioned the firework on the ground. “We’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”

“Wait!” the first student said as a police siren whaled and eventually trailed off somewhere to the south.

“Ok, we’re cool now,” the second one said. “Let’s do this.”

Headlights and flashlights were turned off until the only thing visible was the spitting sparks from the lit wick.

Then, in what seemed like an instant, the rocket leaped in the air. As it climbed into the sky followed by a tail of bright white sparks, the inky night was turned into a clear, lucid day. The shadows of corn and soy bean danced in fields south of Urbana until the rocket burst like a flashbulb with a satisfying and chest-rattling boom. Everyone stood silent for a moment as the echoes and ash from the blast died off in the distance. Then came the sound of dogs barking from the farm house.

“Uh oh,” someone said. “Time to go.”

Everyone piled back in the cars, turned them around and sped off to a new and hopefully more desolate location.

Not your average Saturday night, but for some, playing with fireworks has become somewhat of a patriotic tradition. Every year around the Fourth of July, clouds of smoke and trails of sparks can be seen dotting the Champaign-Urbana skyline. And every year around the Fourth, individuals will cross the state line in search of their annual firework fix.

According to the office of the State Fire Marshal, most types of commercial fireworks are illegal in Illinois. The state does allow smaller and more benign ones, such as smoke devices, trick noisemakers and sparklers, to be bought, sold and used by consumers. Larger and potentially more dangerous ones, like mortar shells, sky rockets, or fountains are strictly prohibited unless the user is licensed and approved by the state. Some, including bottle rockets, roman candles, or pin wheels are outright banned from distributors and consumers alike in Illinois.

Champaign-Urbana has even gone one step further than the state by outlawing fountains: small, stationary fireworks that emit showers of sparks and report. Those caught violating the rules can face a class A misdemeanor.

The main reasons for the government controls is safety. If improperly used, fireworks can cause serious property damage and bodily harm. Around the national holiday, the Champaign fire and police departments said they respond to any number of complaints and crisis including noise violations, personal injures and fires.

A State Fire Marshal report, which surveyed 201 Illinois hospitals during a four-week time period from June 23 through July 20, found that there were 162 persons injured by fireworks in 2005. Of the injuries there were 123 burn victims; 23 lacerations; 8 loss of sight; 3 hearing loss; and 2 dismemberment.

Sparklers were the number one cause of injuries and following them were bottle rockets, roman candles and firecrackers.

For the age of the injured, 38 percent were 22 years or older and 14 percent were between 17 and 21 years old.

One would think, after the evidence above, college-level students would be a little leery of playing with explosives.

Yet, in spite of the dangers, both physical and legal, some students are undeterred. Student cite the healthy mix of excitement and risk as big reasons for running off to Indiana in the end of June. Moreover, other states, including Indiana, Missouri and Wisconsin, have more lax laws concerning consumer fireworks, making is easy for people

“We want the most bang for our buck,” one student said sarcastically. “Besides, the Champaign city fireworks aren’t that great. They’re too smokey and half of the fun is putting on your own show.”

“Yeah,” said another student. “Fireworks are like a drug addiction. You know it’s wrong, but the rush is too great to deny.”

Things purposely designed to ignite and explode tend to put some people on edge. For these students, though, it’s what electrifies them.

Earlier that day, cruising due east down Interstate 74, several students took a day trip to what for eastern Illinois is the Fort Knox of fireworks. Shelton Fireworks, 197 S. Stringtown Road., Covington, Ind., is a veritable cornucopia of combustibles, a pyromaniac’s dream. The building, shaped like a rocket with the tip pointing at Illinois, has boxes and crate-loads of fireworks, from smoke bombs to three-inch mortar shells with bizarre names like Mississippi Gambler, Viking Thunder, G-Man Mobster Killer or Moon Travelers.

After mulling around for about an hour, comparing prices and planning out their shopping list, the students grabbed a cart and started filling. In the end, the total came to $120.21. All of the students agreed that it was money well spent.

The mood was getting tense and nervous back in the farm fields. There had been too many close calls and surely someone had heard or at least saw their latest blast.

“Alright, maybe we should call it a night,” one said.

“C’mon, let’s do just one more,” another pleaded.

Grabbing a small box of missiles arranged in rows, the students set up their last display for the evening. When it ignited, each one fired in rapid succession, whistling and popping.

“This is awesome!” one shouted over the roar.

Then, after it died down, the students kicked out the still-burning ash, crushed the box and drove back into town.