Deep Thoughts At The Range

Kim du Toit
March 27, 2008
7:03 AM CDT

As Doc Russia and I were getting to the closing shots at the range yesterday, we came upon this inescapable truth: you know you’re a gun nut when you have to lock a loaded mag in your car’s glove box upon arrival at the range, because if you take it with you to the shooting bay, you’ll shoot it off and have to drive home with an empty gun on your hip.

Otherwise stated: what goes to the range, gets shot at the range.

That actually happened to me once. I’d accidentally fired off all my centerfire handgun ammo, and instead of carrying my 1911 empty, I had to carry my .22 pistol home instead. (It’s impossible for me to shoot off all the .22 ammo in my bag, unless my Taurus pump-action is part of the day’s activities.)

Felt quite naked, I did.

Anyway, Doc blew through all my .38 Spec yesterday, because he rather liked shooting the S&W Mod 65—“rather liked” in the sense that Ted Kennedy “rather likes” the occasional martini, or Cameron Diaz “rather likes” the occasional boyfriend—after having already shot off all his .45 ACP, and about 200 rounds of .22 LR. (Okay, I admit that I helped, there.)

Only when I burned my hand on the gently-glowing barrel of the Mod 65 did I call a halt—well, that, and he was about to run through my .357 Mag, too, the greedy bastard.

We got home at sunset.

If there’s anything better than spending a whole day at the range with one of your best friends, I haven’t thought of it yet.