Last weekend we were invited to visit a shooting range.
Jeremy’s friend is gun enthusiast and sport shooter. He also owns an arsenal of badass looking firearms, which we piled into the trunk of his car, and off we went to the range.
I should point out; they were all responsibly locked and unloaded for the car ride. We didn’t just toss them in the trunk like bank robbers or anything. At least, I assume bank robbers would just toss their guns in the trunk irresponsibly. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never actually robbed a bank. If I did though, it seems like it would be more efficient to keep then unpacked and loaded, but not so much the safest way to transport them.
Please excuse my rambling. Guns make me nervous.
I have to admit, I’ve never been the least bit interested in lethal weapons, but I’ve never been to shooting range. I was a little bit curious to see what it looked like and what kinds of people hung out there. It turned out to be more of a cross-section of society than I’d expected, although, there did seem to be a disproportionate number of guys with ponytails. So, I guess if I were to describe a shooting range type, I’d have to say ponytailed guys.
Going in, I’d actually assumed that I was just going to be a spectator. My only previous experience with guns has been the kind that dispenses hot glue. Being chronically accident-prone, I’ve managed to sustain many self-inflicted injuries from this seemly innocuous device. With that in mind, for me to pick up a loaded firearm was really testing fate – but test it, I did.
Under the very, very careful watch of our host, we tried out a plethora of rifles of various calibers. The first few were relatively manageable but the last one I tried practically sprayed fire and nearly knocked off my feet when I pulled the trigger. It was just a tad scary.
Finally, we finished the day with a handgun.
Here I am with a Glock.
While I found the whole experience interesting, I didn’t leave the range with a newfound passion for weaponry. I do, however, feel better prepared if I ever have to arm myself in the event of a zombie apocalypse. I’m also less intimidated by guns than I’d been going in.
I think from now on though, this will remain my weapon of choice.
Do you feel lucky, pinecone?