CajunBass
Member
As some of you may remember, about a year ago, my wife suffered near fatal ruptured brain aneruysum. She's recovering well, and yesterday, when I said I was going to the range to sight in my new 77/22 she said she wanted to go along, so I packed up her Wally World Special 10/22 also.
After I got the 77/22 shooting where the scope was looking, I set her 10/22 into the rest and helped her get seated at the bench. She was fussing that she couldn't see the target very well, but I assured her that she'd be looking through the scope and would be able to see better.
Once she got setled in and looked through the scope she was happy. I talked her through chambering a round, (I KNOW HOW TO DO THAT! I'm brain damaged, not stupid." she told me.) She clicked the safety off, and I watched through the binoculars.
The little 22 barked once. BLAP! A hole appeared in the black, center of the target. She looked up. I HIT IT! Yes, you did. Do it again." BLAP, BLAP, BLAP. I called her shots for her. "Low right, Low left, Dead center. Pour it on." BLAP, BLAP, BLAP. Spent brass was flying past my nose.
Boys and girls, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Ok, the group wasn't olympic sized, but it was a group and it was pretty much around the 10 ring. Not bad at all considering what she's been through.
I loaded the magazine again for her and she went back to work. She went through about 30-40 rounds or so before she said she was tired and wanted to go sit in the truck.
On the way home she said, "THAT WAS FUN! Can we do it again?"
Can we? You bet.
Praise God!
Shooting is good therapy.
Sorry, no pictures. My camera isn't working and I'd have forgotten it anyway.
After I got the 77/22 shooting where the scope was looking, I set her 10/22 into the rest and helped her get seated at the bench. She was fussing that she couldn't see the target very well, but I assured her that she'd be looking through the scope and would be able to see better.
Once she got setled in and looked through the scope she was happy. I talked her through chambering a round, (I KNOW HOW TO DO THAT! I'm brain damaged, not stupid." she told me.) She clicked the safety off, and I watched through the binoculars.
The little 22 barked once. BLAP! A hole appeared in the black, center of the target. She looked up. I HIT IT! Yes, you did. Do it again." BLAP, BLAP, BLAP. I called her shots for her. "Low right, Low left, Dead center. Pour it on." BLAP, BLAP, BLAP. Spent brass was flying past my nose.
Boys and girls, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Ok, the group wasn't olympic sized, but it was a group and it was pretty much around the 10 ring. Not bad at all considering what she's been through.
I loaded the magazine again for her and she went back to work. She went through about 30-40 rounds or so before she said she was tired and wanted to go sit in the truck.
On the way home she said, "THAT WAS FUN! Can we do it again?"
Can we? You bet.
Praise God!
Shooting is good therapy.
Sorry, no pictures. My camera isn't working and I'd have forgotten it anyway.
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