I recently moved out of the city and into a more rural area. We have a nice outdoor range near our place that I've become a member at. They have a good setup, area for steel targets, you can shoot and move, draw from concealment and they have a 100yrd rifle range. This is new for me, having previously only shot at indoor ranges here in Florida.
I was getting some practice in before shooting competition for the 1st time a few weeks ago, so I was shooting from multiple spots in the shooting bay. Afterward, I started picking up my mags and brass. That's where things started getting a little out of hand.
It must have been a busy day at the range, and it was near the end of the day with a storm rolling in. As I went back to gather up my spent brass I kept seeing other piles of 45 brass. Nice, fairly shiny brass, on top of the grass, not stepped on pressed into the dirt.....before too long I was in full crackhead mode.
I must have looked like a deranged Adderol addict looking for a lost contact lens...turns out I can spot a spent 45 case, and differentiate it from other calibers, at about 15 yards. This little episode only lasted 10, maybe 15 minutes, and produced a bit shy of 400 cases...I'd probably have kept going if not for the rain starting.
I walked out of there with my cargo pockets stuffed with brass....sounding like Clint Eastwood in an old western....had a pronounced "cha-chink" with every step.
One of the other fellas dropped a Caddyshack reference as I was cha-chinking my way back to my truck...."I'd keep going....I don't think the hard stuff is gonna come down for quite a while"....he knows, he understands....reloading is a dirty habit
I was getting some practice in before shooting competition for the 1st time a few weeks ago, so I was shooting from multiple spots in the shooting bay. Afterward, I started picking up my mags and brass. That's where things started getting a little out of hand.
It must have been a busy day at the range, and it was near the end of the day with a storm rolling in. As I went back to gather up my spent brass I kept seeing other piles of 45 brass. Nice, fairly shiny brass, on top of the grass, not stepped on pressed into the dirt.....before too long I was in full crackhead mode.
I must have looked like a deranged Adderol addict looking for a lost contact lens...turns out I can spot a spent 45 case, and differentiate it from other calibers, at about 15 yards. This little episode only lasted 10, maybe 15 minutes, and produced a bit shy of 400 cases...I'd probably have kept going if not for the rain starting.
I walked out of there with my cargo pockets stuffed with brass....sounding like Clint Eastwood in an old western....had a pronounced "cha-chink" with every step.
One of the other fellas dropped a Caddyshack reference as I was cha-chinking my way back to my truck...."I'd keep going....I don't think the hard stuff is gonna come down for quite a while"....he knows, he understands....reloading is a dirty habit
It seems lately that people are a little less vigilant in sweeping up their brass, so I always come away with more than I shot. I will try to strike up a conversation with other shooters, and if I find out they don't reload, I offer to sweep up their brass for them. Then there are the tacticool guys that bring their ARs to shoot at the 25 or 50 yard lanes and commence to shoot up a few hundred rounds. I offer to do the same, and get a bumper crop of 223 brass.
I would have had a heart attack right then and there!!!!!
