So went to the range today for a shoot. It's called Concealed Bowling Pins. This refers to shooting a bowling pin with a pistol that you'd use to protect your family from home invasion. So no fancy optics but otherwise a weapon you'd use in protecting your home. It consists of five bowling pins set on a table approximately 15ft away and you shoot them off the table. Your weapon is laying on the bench in front of you. Buzzer goes off and you grab your pistol and shoot the bowling pins.
I'm not the best at it but I can hit them just not in a very speedy fashion. Today, out of five participants I came in last. I've done better in the past but that's why I do this so I can get better and learn how to hit what I'm aiming at. Today not so much.
Of course you may ask why I do this if it's frustrating. I'm trying to learn how not to miss. So every time I participate in this type of competition I'm learning something about the gun and myself. Next time I expect to do better. And hopefully I will.
The month of November will have a Falling Plates, Speed Steel, and possibly a Concealed Carry (different from the Bowling Pins) shoot. Then I think I'm done for the year and possibly Jan/Feb '16. We'll see. The Speed Steel shoots continue through the year so I may keep doing those as I am really enjoying shooting those competitions.
Hopefully the next time a bowling pin invades my condo I will be able to do better than I did today.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
Monday, October 12, 2015
Recipe for disaster or My first gun
So here's a story that will have some of you shaking your head.
When I turned 16 I was informed that the family had a tradition. When my father turned 16 his dad gave him a watch to commemorate the occasion. He asked me what I would like to have for this life defining moment. I thought long and hard and decided that I wanted a pistol. Here's where it gets sticky. I'm a city boy. Born in the city and raised in the city. My father grew up on a farm but we only visited the farm every couple of years and there was no contact with guns at all. So my knowledge of guns came from watching James Bond, Napoleon Solo, and John Wayne shoot bad guys ( there were more of these types but those three were the best). Now my father was a smart and good father but remember this was 1970. So we went to the local hardware store and picked out a pistol for me. I wanted a Luger as that was cool looking. That was all I knew, it was cool looking. So a couple of weeks later we went back (there was a waiting period. Why I wasn't sure?) and picked up my new gun, along with some ammo. There was no safety talk other than possibly don't shoot anyone? The gun went home and was put in my closet for later. I'm sure I took it out and handled it when I was alone but beyond that it was mine to do with as I pleased.
Here's where it gets even weirder. In 10th grade history we were learning about WWII. Somehow the subject came up and I offered to bring in my gun to show the class what the German's were using. Granted I wouldn't bring the magazine (in those days it got called a "clip") but otherwise I was given permission (verbal) by the teacher to bring it in that Friday. My parents were fine with this and so here I came to school with a gun. I honestly don't know if the teacher let anyone else know about this or even got permission from anyone higher up for this "show&tell".
It gets even better. Remember I had not been given any instruction or lessons or even a simple talk about how the gun worked. Again all of my knowledge about guns came from the TV and the movies. So one weekend my parents, my sister, and I went to the backroads of the county. My parents were looking at an abandoned mine, they were thinking of trying to revive it. My sister was wandering around and I was left by myself with my gun to do stuff. This was a dead end road in the mountains and we were at the very end of this road. I set up some cans and proceeded to shoot these cans. I actually got bored after about three or four magazines. Ha it wasn't the same as the movies. Okay so I put the gun away and went about my business. Here's the deal, in hindsight I had no idea what was really behind the placement of the cans or where my parents or sister really were in relationship to the flying bullets.
I actually didn't shoot the gun again until three years later when I was given a couple of blanks (don't remember how or why I acquired them) and for the 4th of July I went out in the street and shot them off. This was a party at my house and because it was way louder than normal fireworks we all ran and hid in case the cops came looking for us?
The end of the story is as weird as the beginning. So approximately 4yrs after the purchase of this gun I was pulling it out for some reason and low and behold it was not in it's box. Which by the way was just stuck on a shelf in my closet. It was gone. Someone had stolen it. But they didn't steal the magazine they just took the gun itself. It took me a while but I finally called the cops and they came and wrote a report. I couldn't say who had stolen it other than a vague idea about a friend of a friend who used to come over all the time and suddenly stopped showing up. Yes damning evidence if I've ever heard it.
So it was never found and that was that. I shudder at all the mistakes this story highlights. Especially now that I know what's important when handling a gun. Granted this was a long time ago and life was different, but......
When I turned 16 I was informed that the family had a tradition. When my father turned 16 his dad gave him a watch to commemorate the occasion. He asked me what I would like to have for this life defining moment. I thought long and hard and decided that I wanted a pistol. Here's where it gets sticky. I'm a city boy. Born in the city and raised in the city. My father grew up on a farm but we only visited the farm every couple of years and there was no contact with guns at all. So my knowledge of guns came from watching James Bond, Napoleon Solo, and John Wayne shoot bad guys ( there were more of these types but those three were the best). Now my father was a smart and good father but remember this was 1970. So we went to the local hardware store and picked out a pistol for me. I wanted a Luger as that was cool looking. That was all I knew, it was cool looking. So a couple of weeks later we went back (there was a waiting period. Why I wasn't sure?) and picked up my new gun, along with some ammo. There was no safety talk other than possibly don't shoot anyone? The gun went home and was put in my closet for later. I'm sure I took it out and handled it when I was alone but beyond that it was mine to do with as I pleased.
Here's where it gets even weirder. In 10th grade history we were learning about WWII. Somehow the subject came up and I offered to bring in my gun to show the class what the German's were using. Granted I wouldn't bring the magazine (in those days it got called a "clip") but otherwise I was given permission (verbal) by the teacher to bring it in that Friday. My parents were fine with this and so here I came to school with a gun. I honestly don't know if the teacher let anyone else know about this or even got permission from anyone higher up for this "show&tell".
It gets even better. Remember I had not been given any instruction or lessons or even a simple talk about how the gun worked. Again all of my knowledge about guns came from the TV and the movies. So one weekend my parents, my sister, and I went to the backroads of the county. My parents were looking at an abandoned mine, they were thinking of trying to revive it. My sister was wandering around and I was left by myself with my gun to do stuff. This was a dead end road in the mountains and we were at the very end of this road. I set up some cans and proceeded to shoot these cans. I actually got bored after about three or four magazines. Ha it wasn't the same as the movies. Okay so I put the gun away and went about my business. Here's the deal, in hindsight I had no idea what was really behind the placement of the cans or where my parents or sister really were in relationship to the flying bullets.
I actually didn't shoot the gun again until three years later when I was given a couple of blanks (don't remember how or why I acquired them) and for the 4th of July I went out in the street and shot them off. This was a party at my house and because it was way louder than normal fireworks we all ran and hid in case the cops came looking for us?
The end of the story is as weird as the beginning. So approximately 4yrs after the purchase of this gun I was pulling it out for some reason and low and behold it was not in it's box. Which by the way was just stuck on a shelf in my closet. It was gone. Someone had stolen it. But they didn't steal the magazine they just took the gun itself. It took me a while but I finally called the cops and they came and wrote a report. I couldn't say who had stolen it other than a vague idea about a friend of a friend who used to come over all the time and suddenly stopped showing up. Yes damning evidence if I've ever heard it.
So it was never found and that was that. I shudder at all the mistakes this story highlights. Especially now that I know what's important when handling a gun. Granted this was a long time ago and life was different, but......
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Welcome to the Gun Report
Okay starting a new blog. Always fun and I just want to share a new segment of my life. This is a skill I am attempting to learn. Maybe I should have lived in the Wild West but I enjoy shooting guns. Not just any gun but pistols. Check back for stories of my prowess.
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