The Evangelist Cowboy
Member
Gonna channel my inner Dave Mcracken and go story mode. I love reading his stories over on the shotgun side of the house, Well here goes....
I had an itch to go shoot. I NEEDED to go, its a Sunday after church and the kids, wife, and I just had lunch with mother and sister. I went home and dropped the kids and her off so they could catch a nap,My wife tells me before I get back to pick up some milk for the kid's cereal in the morning, I nod and go out the door. I am having surgery next Friday on my lower jaw. I have been told I will miss hunting season and shouldn't be shooting anything after the surgery for about 3-6 months depending on how fast I can heal. I grabbed my .44 mag from the safe got in the jeep and went crazy down I-10. I enter the range and hear familiar voices. The shop keeps and gunsmith that know me by name, they should after 13 or so guns that I bought from them. I tell them I'm here to shoot, a gentleman looking at an AR notices the 629 smith on my belt and tells the gunsmith "he's here after bear or something" the gun smith tells him "yep he always is" a nod to the sight of a large caliber revolver on my hip more often than not.
I go to the register where the range officer is, we go back a ways. He tells me to take it easy with the .44 and not go too fast as their is a couple, their son, and two of the son' friends shooting all of them new shooters. They brought their 9mm LC9 and rented a 9mm AR to play with. I hear the familiar pop pop pop that the 9mm brings. I find the cartridge useful but like a brunette instead of a blonde or a cat instead of a dog it just doesnt do it for me. I could shoot a 1000 rds of 9mm and feel more fulfilled with a mere 50 rds of a .44 at the end of a day. I go up to my lane, and as fast as the Lord will let me pull the trigger I let loose. I hear the pops stop amid kabooms, kinda like how you stop hearing rain drops amid thunder for a second. Fireballs the size of Texas escape from my barrel, it makes the adults and kids take notice. I do this for a few more cylinder fulls, when I stop to collect my brass and put them into my range bag. I take my turn to notice them now. The parents are shooting, and two of the kids including their child take no interest in it. Theyre on their phones and looking at whatever thing is the all the rage these days, except for one kid. The curly haired one, He is intently looking at the father shoot waiting for his turn. I see almost a fire in the kids eyes similar to my own when I shot for the first time. He was addicted now, and there is no cure, no rehab for this, the only thing to do is to shoot more to chase that high that would overtake his life for the next 80 odd years.
After taking notice I go back to my lane and rip a few more bear stompers when I notice the kid (lets just call him Curly) near my lane and watching me shoot. In my peripheral I see the kids blue shirt. I unload the gun and ask him "Care to try?". Eyes widen up and sparkle Ive seen that look in maybe only a handful of moments on myself, I saw it in the mirror minutes before my wedding, in pictures take of me holding my kids for the first time after their births, and lastly in a pic of me being baptized in the guadalupe river in south Texas. He says "hell yeah" and almost trips trying to get over to me so fast. I caught him and stood him up, "becareful dont want a concussion on ya" I say. We go over a minutes instruction on a DA revolver with the warning that 1) DO NOT put your fingers in front of the cylinder gap or they will become sausage in quick order and 2) hang on for dear life cause this thing recoils way more than that ruger. I coach on his grip and his stance. He shoots a target of a criminal with a gun and puts 3 of the 6 bear stompers in the chest cavity of that unfortunate paper soul. The other three hit paper but not the target. I said "great job! thats your first time firing a revolver?" he replied "Yes sir, that was amazing! I want one of these, they can keep that 9mm". My first thought "See, there is some hope for this generation." came into my head. He shot another 20 rds and I offered to let him keep going and he said no, he wanted the others to try, they were not interested barely getting off their phones to give Curly the obligatory no nod. He thanked me profusely for letting him shoot the .44 and asked when Id be back here. I said not for a spell but when he sees me again Ill let him shoot off some more.
I load some .44 specials in the 629 and reholster. I looked around a bit and stayed talking to the clerks, I notice the range officer coming my way, He had a big grin on his face I say "whats up Tom? finally found a girl willing to date you?" He laughs "Not today, but that kid you were letting shoot wants to rent this!" Tom holds up a GP100 , Tom goes behind the counter and pulls a box of herter's .38 special off the wall, I said "Tom, he aint gonna want to shoot that after shooting some .44s, Take him those remingtons, and Tom put that on my account will ya?" Tom gives me a modest nod and I tip my hat, I got into my jeep and took off, alot less speed and a whole lot less enthusiasm leaving the range as I took getting there. I'm about three streets over when my wife calls me "Hey babe, how was the range?" she asked. I replied how well it went and how I had a story for her when I got home, "Did you remember the milk?" A heavy sigh is heard over the phone as I turn around a street before home.
I had an itch to go shoot. I NEEDED to go, its a Sunday after church and the kids, wife, and I just had lunch with mother and sister. I went home and dropped the kids and her off so they could catch a nap,My wife tells me before I get back to pick up some milk for the kid's cereal in the morning, I nod and go out the door. I am having surgery next Friday on my lower jaw. I have been told I will miss hunting season and shouldn't be shooting anything after the surgery for about 3-6 months depending on how fast I can heal. I grabbed my .44 mag from the safe got in the jeep and went crazy down I-10. I enter the range and hear familiar voices. The shop keeps and gunsmith that know me by name, they should after 13 or so guns that I bought from them. I tell them I'm here to shoot, a gentleman looking at an AR notices the 629 smith on my belt and tells the gunsmith "he's here after bear or something" the gun smith tells him "yep he always is" a nod to the sight of a large caliber revolver on my hip more often than not.
I go to the register where the range officer is, we go back a ways. He tells me to take it easy with the .44 and not go too fast as their is a couple, their son, and two of the son' friends shooting all of them new shooters. They brought their 9mm LC9 and rented a 9mm AR to play with. I hear the familiar pop pop pop that the 9mm brings. I find the cartridge useful but like a brunette instead of a blonde or a cat instead of a dog it just doesnt do it for me. I could shoot a 1000 rds of 9mm and feel more fulfilled with a mere 50 rds of a .44 at the end of a day. I go up to my lane, and as fast as the Lord will let me pull the trigger I let loose. I hear the pops stop amid kabooms, kinda like how you stop hearing rain drops amid thunder for a second. Fireballs the size of Texas escape from my barrel, it makes the adults and kids take notice. I do this for a few more cylinder fulls, when I stop to collect my brass and put them into my range bag. I take my turn to notice them now. The parents are shooting, and two of the kids including their child take no interest in it. Theyre on their phones and looking at whatever thing is the all the rage these days, except for one kid. The curly haired one, He is intently looking at the father shoot waiting for his turn. I see almost a fire in the kids eyes similar to my own when I shot for the first time. He was addicted now, and there is no cure, no rehab for this, the only thing to do is to shoot more to chase that high that would overtake his life for the next 80 odd years.
After taking notice I go back to my lane and rip a few more bear stompers when I notice the kid (lets just call him Curly) near my lane and watching me shoot. In my peripheral I see the kids blue shirt. I unload the gun and ask him "Care to try?". Eyes widen up and sparkle Ive seen that look in maybe only a handful of moments on myself, I saw it in the mirror minutes before my wedding, in pictures take of me holding my kids for the first time after their births, and lastly in a pic of me being baptized in the guadalupe river in south Texas. He says "hell yeah" and almost trips trying to get over to me so fast. I caught him and stood him up, "becareful dont want a concussion on ya" I say. We go over a minutes instruction on a DA revolver with the warning that 1) DO NOT put your fingers in front of the cylinder gap or they will become sausage in quick order and 2) hang on for dear life cause this thing recoils way more than that ruger. I coach on his grip and his stance. He shoots a target of a criminal with a gun and puts 3 of the 6 bear stompers in the chest cavity of that unfortunate paper soul. The other three hit paper but not the target. I said "great job! thats your first time firing a revolver?" he replied "Yes sir, that was amazing! I want one of these, they can keep that 9mm". My first thought "See, there is some hope for this generation." came into my head. He shot another 20 rds and I offered to let him keep going and he said no, he wanted the others to try, they were not interested barely getting off their phones to give Curly the obligatory no nod. He thanked me profusely for letting him shoot the .44 and asked when Id be back here. I said not for a spell but when he sees me again Ill let him shoot off some more.
I load some .44 specials in the 629 and reholster. I looked around a bit and stayed talking to the clerks, I notice the range officer coming my way, He had a big grin on his face I say "whats up Tom? finally found a girl willing to date you?" He laughs "Not today, but that kid you were letting shoot wants to rent this!" Tom holds up a GP100 , Tom goes behind the counter and pulls a box of herter's .38 special off the wall, I said "Tom, he aint gonna want to shoot that after shooting some .44s, Take him those remingtons, and Tom put that on my account will ya?" Tom gives me a modest nod and I tip my hat, I got into my jeep and took off, alot less speed and a whole lot less enthusiasm leaving the range as I took getting there. I'm about three streets over when my wife calls me "Hey babe, how was the range?" she asked. I replied how well it went and how I had a story for her when I got home, "Did you remember the milk?" A heavy sigh is heard over the phone as I turn around a street before home.
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