Range Day!

Today was range day. That means I went to the shooting range, made a lot of noise, put a lot of lead into the ground to help add to the future superfund status of the range, and generally confirmed that I still have 'it'. For those who know me I have been shooting for many years and going to the range is like going golfing for other, less Neanderthal types. I find that the Zen of accurate shooting calms me, focuses my mind, and forces me to put cares and worries to the back of my mind because a shooter can either think about shooting or about his job but he or she can't do both.

I got into shooting as a teenager after years of having numerous realistic looking toy guns as a kid. The 50s and 60s was a different country than where we are today. It was acceptable and expected for boys to strap on a set of toy Cowboy revolvers for a visit to the grocery store or to the 5 and 10 (that is a 5 and 10 cent store - the 50s version of the dollar store today). Firearms were a lot more accepted all the way around back then. Guns could be ordered through the mail and purchased at the local hardware store. Pay your money and take your gun. In fact that is how I got my first firearm. It was a Marlin .22 rifle with a cheap 4x scope on sale for $30 at the local hardware store. My Dad took me down, he bought it and off we went. I was in the shooting game!


I was an inept athlete as a kid. I couldn't bat, catch, dribble, dunk, or run. I had no coordination, skills, or strength. I was pretty much a nebbish. When I got the .22 rifle I discovered that I could hit what I aimed at. I was good at something! My High School (Churchill Area High School, home of the Chargers) had a rifle team. In fact most of the schools had co-ed rifle teams. My mother suggested I check it out and so in my junior year I did. Much to my surprise I was not only good at it, I was very good. I was not just very good, I was the top shooter in the school and later #2 in the state (darn!). I discovered something: it is a lot easier to survive High School if you are part of something and even better if you are good at something. The rifle team gave me confidence, introduced me to girls, provided me with a minor celebrity status, and gave me a hobby to carry me for a lifetime.

So as I mentioned earlier I still have 'it'. 'it' in this case is the ability to hit a mark at a considerable distance (400 yards) with a rifle from the standing or kneeling position using only my unassisted mark 1 eyeball. Well ok, I do wear glasses but otherwise no optics were involved. A minor triumph but at this stage of my life I take them how I can get them. The weather was nice, the wind was calm and Jupiter was aligned with Mars so today I couldn't miss. The 400 yard target is a steel plate that announces to all on the rifle line a hit with a resounding 'clang'. A miss generates a puff of dust for all and sundry to see so your ability and manhood is on the line when you take that shot. Getting up from the shooting bench and either standing or kneeling when taking the shot increases the odds. Take the shot, hear the clang, and you may hear murmurs of 'nice shot' from the others. Get the dust puff and the others know that you are a poser and not a marksman. Brother, I am still a marksman! With an FN49 rifle (the Belgian equivalent of the U.S. M1 rifle) 10 pounds of walnut and steel, I scored a solid 5 for 5 at the 400 yard plate. Yesss! The old guy still has it.

Later I moved on to the handgun range. I brought an array of handguns. Everything from an HR .22 9 shot revolver to a Ruger Old Army .45 cap and ball revolver. No steel plate was safe from my bullets. Some Boy Scouts at the range were amazed and fascinated with the fire belching, smoke spewing cap and ball revolver. All in a day's shooting boys.

I finished up massacring steel cutouts of cartoon cowboys with a Winchester 97 riot shotgun. I channeled Lee Marvin and Burt Lancaster in the 'Professionals" as they fought to save Claudia Cardinale from the clutches of her bandito kidnappers. Too bad it turned out she went with them willingly. No matter, the steel banditos jumped and bounced satisfyingly when hit with the blasts of buckshot from the trusty '97.















All in all, a day high on stress relief and confirming that at least for another month, I still have 'it'.