Not really - just the report on it.
I had a list of possible activities for my sister's visit - didn't include shooting. She'd never really evidenced any interest in shooting before, but at one point she said "So, are we going shooting?". Quick e-mail to the ever-gracious Murphy's Law. I don't feel that I'm the one to be teaching anybody yet, so I greatly appreciate ML's willingness to do so. I also think that everybody should be given a chance to shoot at least once under proper supervision so that they understand that guns are fine machines whose actions are based on the actions of the person handling them - they aren't evil, spirit-infested gremlins that hop out of drawers and holsters, randomly mowing down innocent by-standers.
So off we went on a Wednesday, with my .38 and .32, the old beat up shotgun I blogged about before, and ML's usual variety, including a Glock 9 mm and an M-1.
Sis had never shot before - she said jumped with each shot.
But she did pretty well and took her target home with her to show off.
I was happy to get to fire the M-1. Nice. Size is good for me. Loved the sights. I was really pleased with the results. The paper plate died from center of mass shots. I want one.
Time to test the shotgun. Turns out Murphy's Law tests guns sort of the same way he drives - point it and let 'er rip. The comforting thing about both situations is (I think), his assurance that "I'm a professional." He did tell me that I should move away. And he fired it from the hip rather than the shoulder. Nothing bad happened except to the target. Yep, that old gun still works.
So of course I had to do it, too. I'd never fired a shotgun before and I made the newbie mistake of not snugging it up good. That thing makes a right good KER-BLAM!
It's all healed up now, so I want to go out and see if I can NOT do that again. Also, the ejector wasn't doing its job, so each shell had to be popped out with a little screwdriver. I want to see if a couple weeks of saturation with Rem Oil has fixed that.
A run to Hedgesville to check out The Arsenal of Democracy, where I was introduced to a CZ (I forget what) that fit my hand very well, then home for cleaning. And beer. Guns cannot be cleaned properly without lubricant.
My sister is very artsy-craftsy and I'm not. It requires a delicate touch. I'm prone to whacking things with something. I still struggle with cleaning the .32 because you have to turn things just right to disassemble and reassemble the barrel and slide. She takes it and just click click. I take a half hour. Jiggle jiggle. Grumble. Jiggle jiggle. Grumble.
Of the five guns that were Dad's the only one that hasn't been fired is the Arisaka he brought home from Japan. Murphy's Law gave it a good cleaning and has pronounced it fit to fire, pending the replacement of a couple parts that were missing. So, next up:
A very enjoyable day. Thanks again, Murphy's Law!