Home, Home on the Range

Warning: Gun Stuff follows.

The post-Christmas cleanup was just about over, and Bob had a new pistol that he really wanted to shoot, so I invited him to join Jon and myself for our Friday-during-the-lunch-hour session at the Firing Lane. In keeping with my theory that "if some is good, and more is better, then too much is just enough", I invited Slade to join us, too.

As with most things I try to organize, it got bigger than I expected. Bob invited Jerry, who had never shot his Glock, and Kevin, who also had a .40 that needed exercise.

I brought my .45 SW1911, .45 Colt Uberti Cattleman, the H&R Sportsman, and the Ciener .22 conversion for the 1911. Jon brought his Ruger 22/45, Bob his FNP-45, and Slade his PT1911 and a really nifty modified Ruger 22/45.

We took turns shooting everything in turn, and soon were about ankle deep in spent brass, shredded targets, and empty cartridge boxes. Between all the guns we probably put over 1,000 bullets into the sand at the end of the three lanes we had assigned.

The hit of the day had to be Slade's .22 Ruger. It had an aluminum upper and a (legal) suppressor on it. The loudest sound from the thing was the noise of the bolt clanking back and forth. Pretty cool.

To say that a good time was had by all might be a bit of an understatement.

Sunday, I was back. Sandy and Slade had given me a gift certificate to rent a "machine gun", so I gave Slade a call and arranged to meet him at 2:00 PM. On the way, I got a call saying Slade had been called to do something with the Sheriff's Office, and he would have to work. I went anyway, and shot up a couple of hundred rounds of .45 ACP. As I was leaving the semi-soundproofed part of the range, I saw Slade in the lobby. His work had gone quickly.

Not being one to turn my back on good fortune, we went to the counter and got checked out on the H&K MP-5, picked up a couple of Osama bin Ladin targets and 3 boxes of 9mm ammo. Back in the range area, we settled into my lane, and started loading the magazine. In the lane to my right, a young man was trying to teach his wife/girlfriend to shoot. We sort of interrupted his instruction when the MP-5 threw a stream of spent 9mm brass over the partition between lanes.

By the time Slade and I had finished with the 3 boxes of ammo, we were performing for about a dozen people. Nobody left the range with a frown on their face.

I think the next time, I'll rent the M-3 Grease Gun. :)