...Pistol packin mama
Lay that thing down before it goes off and hurts somebody!
Al Dexter & His Troopers - 1943
It's official. Sista Girl is serving notice to the citizenry of the Big Rip that she will soon become a legal member of the "Packing Heat" society. That's right, boys and girls, Missy has passed her handgun safety course. With flying colors, I might add.Whoo Hoo!
Lawd a Mercy! The class consisted of nine people and I swear that only two of us had never held one. How did I arrive at that conclusion? Because we were the only two without one. I was renting mine and she was using her friend's.
A retired policeman, ex-SWAT, former firearms instructor, lifetime NRA supporter, runs this class once a month. It's a family affair. He instructs; wife and daughter handle the paperwork. And he's the size of a bantam rooster. But, as they say, if you get in a fight with him, you'd better bring your lunch...'cause you're going to be there for a while. After he shoots the hell out of you. His gun, worn at the hip, naturally, is bigger than he is.
So we got a mixture of theory, arrests made (he gave them free room and board...what's the problem?), a dissertation on the NRA, and real down-home charm and humor. All done with the use of the discreetly-placed and used spit cup. And then to the range to put into use all that we'd learned. Did I say range? Why did I expect a city-fied range like you see on television? Try this...go down an incline behind the building until you get to the bottom. There is a large field with an embankment. Targets are placed on posts in front of the embankment. Stops bullets real good.
Lawd, Lawd! What have I done? I knew that I was going through with it, unlike the other woman who had to be cajoled into participating, but damned if I was going to be the first one. A retired sheriff's deputy was in attendance--he's opened a pawn shop--and was accompanying his wife, daughter, significant other. I never figured out the relationship. Anyway, he treated us to a display of his ability to shoot with only one hand. The rest of us had to use two. Actually, some of us could have used a tripod. Just joking.
One fellow had a gun that he needs to dispose of. I thought he was changing the magazine each time he fired because he kept hitting it. Turns out the damned gun didn't work right. It was so bad that when his friend used it for his practice (standing beside me, naturally) the instructor declared it dangerous and took it away. When the instructor went to unjam it, it fired all by itself. Needless to say, the young man borrowing the gun failed that portion of the test and had to retake it, using one of the instructor's rentals. We laughed about the gun (referred to as a "piece of shit" by the instructor) and told the owner that he'd get killed by his attacker while he was trying to beat the malfunctioning part into working. Had to have been there.
So how did Sista Girl do? Loading the magazine got easier with time. Got hit in the head with a discharged casing from the malfunctioning gun which didn't help the confidence factor once bit. How can I concentrate when I'm ducking shells? But, after the first couple of shots, girlfriend was on her game. Head and body shots. I can get into this!
Please say a prayer for Grannie Sue, my 92-year-old friend, who is a door greeter. She fell and broke her hip in three places. Now, Grannie Sue is all of 4'2" and very frail. A strong wind will blow her away.
Do Not Mess With the Kid! I'm framing my target and putting it on the outside of the backdoor. Come on in. I think that will be more effective than getting a dog, don't you?
Be safe. Be Blessed!