What's the strangest thing that's happened to you while...

I was shooting at the bench at my range (which I never do- we have private bermed ranges that I usually use) while the security/custodian came walking down the line with a steel magnet. He never called "cease fire", he would just wait until the next person on the line was reloading and THEN walk in front of them. When a cease fire was finally called, he came behind the firing line and started telling me, and anyone who would listen about the Zionist Occupied Government.

I told him that I wasn't interested in talking politics or conspiracies with him and that I just wanted to shoot- to which he responded "I'd hate to have to kick you out of the club..." He was gone soon after that.

Shot in the head with a .44 Magnum pistol.

Shelby County Range in Memphis, Tennessee, in the mid '80s. I was working up some loads for a Desert Eagle. It would digest even cheap factory ammo fine, but it didn't like any reloads until they were way past the "maximum" recommendation in the powder guides.

I'd stovepiped a couple of rounds (I was only loading batches of 8, in various powders and weights), and then got a hangfire. I carefully set the gun down on the bench for the recommended 3-minute wait, and bent down to pick up some of the empties. The friend who was with me decided to pick the gun up, and it went off in his hand. A 240 grain Hornady went downrange, and the pistol went about four feet back into the side of the head, knocking me silly.

I'm just glad it was the pistol that got me, and not the bullet...

I've seen more than a few unpleasant things over the years. Most have been echoed here to some extent.

One guy does spring to mind, because he was entertaining but harmless. His name was Rudy. We never knew what his deal was, but he may have been slightly mentally challenged.

He'd come in with an old Ruger auto and do the same routine every time:

1. Roll the target out to about 25 feet and fire. Every time he'd hit the 9 or 10 ring on a silhouette (which wasn't very often), he'd yell at the top of his lungs.
2. Then he'd bring it back to do some "point shooting." I know it was "point shooting," because he once interrupted me to point out the fact. This involved bringing the target back to about 7 feet and shooting one-handed. Every head shot elicited another whoop of joy.

Funny thing is, the guy never did anything unsafe, and he always cleaned up after himself dilligently. He seemed nice enough. He couldn't shoot very well, but he politely turned down advice, claiming he didn't need pointers because he was an "ace."

He was also very courteous to every one who worked there, so once you got used to him, it was just "one of those things."

He was a fixture at the local range for several years, then he came in one day wanting to sell the gun. The owner didn't want to buy it because, well, it was "Rudy's gun." (It was also in pretty rough shape)

Rudy was adamant, so the owner gave him a bit more than normal for it. I was there when they asked Rudy why he was parting with it, and his response was, "gentlemen, I have mastered this art. Other pursuits demand my attention."

I still wonder what he's doing these days. Whatever it is, it's probably pretty interesting

I once had a common enough experience: I was plinking with a .22 rifle, had the uncanny impression, no, knowledge, that everything was lined up perfectly - sights, body, steel target. I pulled the trigger, and immediately after the shot I felt bullet fragments strike the collar I had pulled up around my throat.

The weirdest part was the feeling that I was spot-on with the aiming. It was like when you throw a dart and know it's a bull's eye before it even hits. The shot was only at around 20 yards, but it might as well have been 200 and I still could've confidently bet a year's pay that it was perfectly placed. That feeling hasn't happened since.

Found a $20 bill in the grass at the gravel pit, from the drinking party the night before.

I haven't been shooting long enough to get many, but the day of my CCL class was interesting.

One of the guys qualifying was in a wheelchair. Permanently or long-term temporarily, I don't know, but he seemed used to it. I let him go in front of me, just being polite like I would anyone, and turned away--and then reached up to hold my head because my eyeballs were rattling between their sockets and my glasses. He had a high-end .357 of some sort, and was shooting his deer rounds--as I found out later--at a target three yards away.

I asked him afterwards why he didn't use WWB or .38's in it for the qualification, and he said he just figured he'd shoot what he knew.



During the break while the renters rented and the owners stretched their legs, the officer that held the class saw me limping around looking through the cases. (I have a bum right knee--I gashed it open when I was little, and have a very vivid memory of cleaning it and literally seeing my own kneecap) I told him the rain was bothering me, and he told me to just wait until I was his age.

I replied, verbatim, "After this, I'll be licensed to carry a loaded gun while riding a motorcycle. I'm not planning on living that long." I think he left a bruise slapping me on the back.

It wasn't so much strange as embarrassing.

I'd only been shooting a couple of weeks, firing .22 CZs (not sure exactly what model - they're the club guns, anyhow). This week someone suggested I had a go with the club's Marlin .38 lever action.

Standard range practice in the club is to go in, load your mags while you wait for the RO, RO comes and checks the weapons, ear protection etc, and then you load and fire when ready. So in I go, and load the mag. Which just happens to be integral tube magazine attached to the rifle. Urk...


Everyone had a good laugh at my expence, and I'll never do that again ><

The weirdest part was the feeling that I was spot-on with the aiming. It was like when you throw a dart and know it's a bull's eye before it even hits. The shot was only at around 20 yards, but it might as well have been 200 and I still could've confidently bet a year's pay that it was perfectly placed. That feeling hasn't happened since.

Click to expand...

I've had that odd feeling on very rare occassions. I recall one time I was shooting my IAI Javelina and on an extremely rare string where it did not jam, I was really in the groove and shot exactly where I wanted. I wish I had that ability all of the time.

I was at the local range sighting in a new scope when a guy sets up at the next bench. I'm trying to be as accurate as possible( I was new to using a scoped rifle)because I have little experience shooting past 100 yards. When the range goes cold he sets up a large bullseye target up at 10 yards. The range goes hot again and the guy pulls out some old bolt action rifle with a straight pull bolt(looks like a mil-surp). He procedes to sit down and bench the rifle. Then he lets fly with hundred rounds. He was shooting as fast as he could cycle the action. He never changed his target while I was there(around two hours) and he never slowed down. I must have watched him burn through a case of ammo easy. As I was leaving I noticed that he not only shot a seven inch hole in the center of the target he was still firing through the hole he made. At ten yards it looked like he was patterning 00 buck at 25 yards. I still chuckle when I think about that guy.

This happened yesterday. Proved to me that I'm an idiot, but a lucky idiot!

I'm a member of a gun club, with a 560 acre private range way out in the toolies. Grandson and I were delivering a pickup load of donated steel materials and wood, and were unloading the truck.

My carry pistol is a RIA Compact 1911, and it kept dragging my pants down while working, so I took it out and placed it on the bumper of my truck. Chevy Silverado, big chrome step bumper, with the rubber pad across the top.

We got done, jumped in the truck and took off. Drove around the place for awhile, down dirt roads, over cattle guards, a little bit of pasture, and ended up at one of the pistol ranges. Approx 1 to 1.5 miles of bouncing around.

We're looking around that pistol range, deciding if we wanted that one or another, and I suddenly remembered my 1911.

The blood drained from my face as I bolted for the back of the truck, and there she was! Completely covered with dust, scared out of her mind, but she was clinging onto that bumper for dear life!

Words cannot express how relieved I was. That's the most loyal gun I've ever seen, and she got a well-deserved solvent bath and CLP soaking last night!

I love that little pistol more than ever now.

Several years ago I was at a public range when a group of 4 black guys showed up with a new in the box shotgun with a pistol grip and a large cardboard box for a target. the first guy loads the gun and holds it at arms length and shoots at the box with buck shot (I looked at the hulls after they left) and missed it completly at about 10 yards. His buddies all razzed him so then he handed it to one of them to shoot, this guy held it two handed with one hand on the forearm and the other at his waist, he missed to. First guy decides to try again but this time he aims real hard while holding the pistol grip about 3 inches from his face (forgot to tell you its a 12 ga) when he pulls the trigger he yells and drops the gun (yes he still missed) and grabs his face as blood gushed from his nose that was smeared all over his face. They grab the gun throw it back in the box and I heard him say "I'm going to take that damn gun back and get my money back, something is wrong with it I can't hit nuttin with it. I nearly musted a gut trying not to laugh, the guy next to me was laughing so hard that he was crying.

So you completely missed an opportunity to teach a new shooter what the sport/hobby is all about?

This isn't really odd, but it stands out in my mind as one of the rootenest, tootenest, funnest times I've ever had at the range. It's easy for me to get real serious when I get to the range, but there's one gal in particular I know from the Annie Oaklies that took all the serious out of me one day. She volunteers as a RSO at the range. Nicest gal you'd ever want to know. One day she was shooting with one of her friends, and they were tacking balloons up on the target stand. I was doing something boring, like shooting paper, but what they were doing looked more interesting so I stood to watch. It turned out they were drawing from the hip and point shooting at balloons (it's a good range, even drawing from the holster allowed if you're safe). It wasn't long before they invited me in on their fun. I don't think I ever had a better time at the range than that. "No!" She kept saying. "You took the time to aim again. Quit that. Now again, and no aiming!" I don't know how I was able to shoot while she had me laughing so hard, but we popped a lot of balloons. Most fun I've ever had at the range, and most balloons killed.

All of the best times involved people, not hardware. The gun or the place didn't matter.

I gotta nominate Old Grump's adventures for the story of the thread. Free target! That was great.

Strangest thing that ever happened to me was at a state range where it was verboten to rapid fire. The RO was complaining to us during a cease fire that ground hogs were screwing up the grounds big-time. About 5 minutes into the next hot session, I spotted one of the wily whistle pigs and called the RO over. He immediately called us together and had us take aim, and on his count of 3, we all emptied our weapons at the moving target about 50 yards away. All clean misses, though many were close. He called cold range and scampered through the gate toward the disappearing hog, his Beretta 92 in hand. We waited about 5 minutes, hearing a couple shots the whole time, and back he came with his 92 holstered. As he got within 10 yards or so he shook his head. Oh well, hogs 1, range boys 0. Then he told us rapid-fire was allowed. For ground hogs only, of course. I miss that range.

I was shooting at a 10" steel plate a 500 yards with a 500 my Linebaugh from a beach chair (folding chair with about 4" legs). I had a good spotter and hit 2 out of 10. While I was shooting a couple of mall ninjas started setting up there all balck Rem 308's with giant scopes. As I am making my 10th shot they ask my spotter what are yall shooting at? Just as he tells them the 500 yard plate my shot breaks, about one and a half seconds later the "ding" of a hit comes back. I didn't know that all of this was going on, so when I get up there are these two guys looking at me then my 51/2" revolver then at each other. They didn't say a word just packed up and drove away. My friend is laghing too hard to tell me what happend for a while.

idiot walked into my house and almost got a .45 jammed down his throat, my dad wasnt impressed and I was like you should have judo flipped his old ass down the steps for good measure if he wasnt 60+

Wish I could tell you.
They only allow us to shoot at paper targets (or clay pigeons/skeet if you know how).

Joined it, hoping that I might run into one or more guys from my company, and sometimes have an acquaintance to shoot with, but never do.
It cost $500 to join (= 2500 rounds of Wolf x39).
Prefer shooting alone, down into a narrow, deep river in order to have fun.

Farted so loud the guy next to me thought someone had a gatling gun.