Defying Expectations

Aside from gaming and historic swordplay, another long-time hobby of mine had been shooting. While visiting the in-laws in AZ a couple of weeks ago, my brother-in-law and I went shooting for an afternoon, reminding me of how much I miss it. So when I got home, having left my sweet wife there to spend time with her new nephew and other, lesser noteworthy members of the family than a new 5 month-old nephew, I decided to visit the range.

There was a time when I looked more at home on a shooting range that at a gaming table or historical recreation event. Now, not so much. Jeans and boots have given way to cargo shorts and hiking shoes. The local sports team or NRA baseball cap had given way to the breathable, modern materials hat from REI. Rather than a modern black nylon shooting bag with Remington or Smith & Wesson printed on the side or the plastic case a pistol comes in,  my range bag is a green Craftsman tool bag.

Yesterday, as I approached the shooting line, the range officer approached me and began giving me the newcomer speech.

"First time here?"

"No, just first time in a few years."

He seemed to not believe me. "Need me to show you how the target carrier works?"

"No, thanks. If  I remember right, it seemed pretty straightforward."

He still didn't believe me, but was polite enough to not say so. He just kept an eye on me not so subtle-like.

Once I'd set my bag down, hung my target, and send it down range, I'd just gotten it to where I wanted it, which was half-again farther down than the people around me, (not being macho or cocky, just practical, which will be revealed later) he nicely came over and started to tell me how to bring it back in closer.

"If you wanna bring that back in a little, you just lower the riser and that'll roll back in."

"Thanks." I left it where it was."That's good there."

He stepped back as if to say. "Suit yourself," and walked a bit away as I turned and unpacked my shooting bag. When I uncased my pistol, which is a Ruger Competition Target Mark 2, He made a grunt as if to say, "Nevermind," and walked back to his usual position.

He was satisfied at that point that I seemed to know what I was doing, but I think I hurt some penises on either side of me. My first couple of shots were a little wilder than I wanted, but even then, I could have folded  a dollar bill in half and covered the grouping after the first twenty. This is less a testament to my skill than to the quality of my firearm. It's a very accurate target pistol with a heavy barrel and almost no recoil.

The guys on either side of me were shooting much louder and larger things, making MUCH larger groupings than mine. The guy on my right's reaction seemed to be taking more time to aim between shots. The guy on the left's reaction was to move his target past mine and all but quit hitting the paper. He even it mine once. Or at least someone who wasn't me did, as 22's don't make holes that big, at least not with one shot.

I missed shooting. I plan on going back again soon. When my sweet wife comes back, I'll take her with me, because she used to enjoy it too.