Number 871...

I am now officially a member at the local gun club. Missed getting the same number as Remington's famous pump-action shotgun by one. If I'd gotten out of my seat a second faster...

I'm really excited about the new club. Sure, it's a small place, certainly not big enough to host a Bloggershoot or anything like that. And yeah, it's in an area that's gotten built up thick with yuppie condos, meaning that it's constantly defending itself and passing more prohibitions on the members (like no rapid fire; apparently that scares the white people, as Unc is wont to say).

But it's my club. It's four miles from my house. The yearly membership fee costs as much as four outings to the public range (the one that just closed down). Even at the anemic pace that I go to the range, that's going to save me money.

I am really looking forward to setting up shop on the rifle range with my Model 511 and sighting in the scope. Or busting some clays on a Sunday afternoon on the trap field. Maybe bring a couple .22 pistols to the indoor range for some serious target shooting. That's the best part - the indoor range is open 24/7/365. Neat little feature for a small club, that's for certain.

Now if only Mrs. G. trusted me enough to take my son with me...

That is all.