Dave McCracken
Moderator In Memoriam
I left my cane in the gun rack. I had my Beretta, a box of shells and Range 7 at PGC all to myself. I stuck my ear plugs in, walked to the controller for the Canterburys and turned them on. I did a few stretching exercises, dropped two shells into the B-gun and prepared to shoot. I grunted for the bird and noted as I mounted that I was grinning like a possum....
This last month has been rough. Hip replacement is a major invasion of the body and my old, diabetic carcass is slow to heal. There's been lots of pain, lots of painkillers leaving me uncomfortably numb and being helpless.
I don't do helpless well.
Still I made progress. While I'm onery, cantankerous and stubborn, I did everything the medicos told me to because I was convinced it was tbe best way to get well.
My Orthopedist saw me last Monday and cleared me to drive. And shoot.
I saw my latest Physical Therapist Wednesday. After explaining exactly what a round of trap or wobble entails, he smiled and told me it sounded like a good idea.
They both told me not to "Push It".
Silly Doctors. "Pushing It" has been an integral part of my life since early childhood. "Pushing it" is part of the reason I needed new parts this early in life.
Anyway, I called for the first bird and missed it.
Missed the second also.
Missed the third, chipped the fourth and then my rhythm came back. Hit most of the rest squarely and has a glorious time. Took the last few shots over by Skeet Two and enjoyed each one.
The trapper came over to get my ticket as I walked off the line. We knew each other, and shook hands. Roger said he had heard I was post surgery and wanted to know how I was doing. I brought him up to date and noted I was moving free and easy without a limp.
After talking a bit, I gathered up my stuff and left. I was whistling along with AC/DC's Highway to Hell as the Cherokee headed home.
I'll be shooting with the Geezers today, so I just shot one round. After all, no reason to "Push It"......
This last month has been rough. Hip replacement is a major invasion of the body and my old, diabetic carcass is slow to heal. There's been lots of pain, lots of painkillers leaving me uncomfortably numb and being helpless.
I don't do helpless well.
Still I made progress. While I'm onery, cantankerous and stubborn, I did everything the medicos told me to because I was convinced it was tbe best way to get well.
My Orthopedist saw me last Monday and cleared me to drive. And shoot.
I saw my latest Physical Therapist Wednesday. After explaining exactly what a round of trap or wobble entails, he smiled and told me it sounded like a good idea.
They both told me not to "Push It".
Silly Doctors. "Pushing It" has been an integral part of my life since early childhood. "Pushing it" is part of the reason I needed new parts this early in life.
Anyway, I called for the first bird and missed it.
Missed the second also.
Missed the third, chipped the fourth and then my rhythm came back. Hit most of the rest squarely and has a glorious time. Took the last few shots over by Skeet Two and enjoyed each one.
The trapper came over to get my ticket as I walked off the line. We knew each other, and shook hands. Roger said he had heard I was post surgery and wanted to know how I was doing. I brought him up to date and noted I was moving free and easy without a limp.
After talking a bit, I gathered up my stuff and left. I was whistling along with AC/DC's Highway to Hell as the Cherokee headed home.
I'll be shooting with the Geezers today, so I just shot one round. After all, no reason to "Push It"......
