Demi-human
maybe likes firearms a little bit…
I spent today at the range.
The five of us loaded up everything we thought we would need. Ladders, a compressor, saws and levels. As well as our hand tools, hammers, tape measures, levels and squares. And all the fasteners, two headers and sill seal.
We had already delivered the wall sections I built in the shop. Eight all on a trailer, twelve foot by ten. Also all the roofing materials and sheeting O.S.B. were down at the range, waiting to be assembled, hunkered down in the twenty five bay, covered and lighted, firing line.
A convoy of three red Chevrolet pickups with identical white trailers and one red Dakota pulled slowly down the barely plowed road. As we drove in I read the white signs that proliferated in the adjacent woods.
"University Property No Trespassing"
The three company trucks entered the driveway and drove down to the range. I stopped at the empty Public Access overflow lot. No boaters on the Muskegon today!
Did I forget something? A tool maybe?
No.
I stopped to unload my thirty eight revolver, put the cartridges in the armrest, stowed it in a soft case and locked it in my glove box.
Yep. You guessed it.
I was just about to spend the entire day at a very nice Law Enforcement practice range, with no gun.
The perfect three sided berm. Square and perfectly level across the tops. Fourty feet tall and in the middle of a forest. The wabe was flat and level, a little littered with shot shells, but firm and square. Thirty yards to the berm from the bays and sixty between the two sides, where there was some rifle target holders. The day was sunny and warm, (For January, I am a Michigander.) the wind still and the firing line clean. A range day if there ever was one!
But it was not to be.
The Range is on the local university's property, and as such, we were reminded that we were not to have any weapons on our person. For that reason I had to stop at the drive, unarm and walk the remaining few hundred yards to the site. That is, leave a gun and bullets in my truck and walk, to a Gun Range, without them.
The unease was terrible. Somehow I managed, with the help of the crew, to frame and roof a twenty four foot by thirty storage shed without leaving in a disgusted and beaten huff.
I walked up to the gate and waited for the other trucks to leave so I could lock up. 'Barney' stops and says, "So, you so itchy ya gonna go shoot tonight?" With a wide grin.
"No." I reply. "But I am going to make a short ton of bullets and sleep with my Desert Eagle tonight!"
So, I was stuck at a gun range with a gun and rounds in the truck and forbidden to use them.
Has anything like this happened to anyone else? Or is it just me that is tortured so?
(And yes, the Eagle is already under the pillow, but I ran out of H-one-ten. I will report on the neck pain tomorrow morning.)
The five of us loaded up everything we thought we would need. Ladders, a compressor, saws and levels. As well as our hand tools, hammers, tape measures, levels and squares. And all the fasteners, two headers and sill seal.
We had already delivered the wall sections I built in the shop. Eight all on a trailer, twelve foot by ten. Also all the roofing materials and sheeting O.S.B. were down at the range, waiting to be assembled, hunkered down in the twenty five bay, covered and lighted, firing line.
A convoy of three red Chevrolet pickups with identical white trailers and one red Dakota pulled slowly down the barely plowed road. As we drove in I read the white signs that proliferated in the adjacent woods.
"University Property No Trespassing"
The three company trucks entered the driveway and drove down to the range. I stopped at the empty Public Access overflow lot. No boaters on the Muskegon today!
Did I forget something? A tool maybe?
No.
I stopped to unload my thirty eight revolver, put the cartridges in the armrest, stowed it in a soft case and locked it in my glove box.
Yep. You guessed it.
I was just about to spend the entire day at a very nice Law Enforcement practice range, with no gun.
The perfect three sided berm. Square and perfectly level across the tops. Fourty feet tall and in the middle of a forest. The wabe was flat and level, a little littered with shot shells, but firm and square. Thirty yards to the berm from the bays and sixty between the two sides, where there was some rifle target holders. The day was sunny and warm, (For January, I am a Michigander.) the wind still and the firing line clean. A range day if there ever was one!
But it was not to be.
The Range is on the local university's property, and as such, we were reminded that we were not to have any weapons on our person. For that reason I had to stop at the drive, unarm and walk the remaining few hundred yards to the site. That is, leave a gun and bullets in my truck and walk, to a Gun Range, without them.
The unease was terrible. Somehow I managed, with the help of the crew, to frame and roof a twenty four foot by thirty storage shed without leaving in a disgusted and beaten huff.
I walked up to the gate and waited for the other trucks to leave so I could lock up. 'Barney' stops and says, "So, you so itchy ya gonna go shoot tonight?" With a wide grin.
"No." I reply. "But I am going to make a short ton of bullets and sleep with my Desert Eagle tonight!"
So, I was stuck at a gun range with a gun and rounds in the truck and forbidden to use them.
Has anything like this happened to anyone else? Or is it just me that is tortured so?
(And yes, the Eagle is already under the pillow, but I ran out of H-one-ten. I will report on the neck pain tomorrow morning.)