Nothing Like the First Time...

Commenter, blogshoot and blogdinner attendee, and good friend Brad_in_ma got his MA LTC recently. He bought his first gun not all that long ago, and was kind enough to share his first time at the range with her with me. And, through me, with you.

I went to Westford Sportsmen's with friends... I think I'll be joining there once I drop the news about the Ruger to Mrs. Brad... Mrs. Brad will be able to get her hands around the place and see it as more of a Gentlemen's club and less of place where Harley riding, shaved-head, gun toting, knuckle-dragging, cousin-humping, mouth-breathing, Michelle Bachmann loving troglodyte red-necks go to blow shit up while swilling case after case of Pabst beer. The grounds were clean, trimmed, relatively free from weeds and the 'cover' structures were in decent shape. Having seen the club-house from when I had the March 19 safety course, I can say also that it too is in good repair. On to the important stuff.

Fun, fun, fun was had by all. Wow. Just wow. Wish you could have seen the many Cheshire Cat, shit-eatin' grins I was sporting. They compared to the grin BabyGirl G. was sporting while on the back of your Harley. I was making two to three inch groups pretty consistantly at 25 feet. At 75 feet in waning light, I was able to keep most of the rounds on an 8" square paper. And as dusk approached, those little .22lr rounds were spitting nice jet of orange flame out the muzzle.

Pals and I blew through about 300 rounds in 90 minutes, give or take. My compadres and I were filling magazines for each other almost as fast as we could empty them. The little Ruger digested everything I fed it. I had one dud round from the Federal bulk stuff, and I blew through both 100-round boxes of the CCI and Winchester. In fact, we blew through the 100 round box-o-CCI so fast, my friend thought it was a 50-round box. Towards the end, I had one failure to chamber, I think because the works were getting gummed up with junk and the bolt didn't slam into battery with quite the right amount of force. I should probably spray a little oil on the internal workings of the mags too, just to make sure the follower slides up and down, nice and easy. As for ammo, I think I'll be sticking with the Federal bulk stuff for now since it works just fine and dandy, and is highly affordable.

The bull barrel did well too, only getting just a little warm to the touch. The rear sight had a minor issue, with a small pin working loose after a while. I was able to push it back in most of the way, and seat it flush by gently pushing the pin into place with the 'foot' of a magazine. I think I should get a small bottle of lock-tite and put a drop or two on the pin to secure it.

Ah, magazines . . . I need more magazines. Lots more. Like four or five more. Two is just not enough. I also need to get a mag speed loader gizmo or at least toss an old work glove into the bag . . . while the mag does have a pull down button to compress the spring, an old work glove would make compressing the spring a whole lot more comfortable on the thumb. One other thing I need for the range bag -- BUG SPRAY. Skeeters last night were tough. Lousy, malaria-carrying bastards deserve to die a horrible death. In fact, I was reminded of the Gary Larson "Far Side" 'toon where one skeeter hits an artery and the other skeeter pleads for the first to pull out. Funny stuff.

I have to work on accuracy now . . . I think I might put a dot of bright orange paint on the front sight for visibility. I also think the rear sight is a bit off . . . rounds were impacting left and perhaps a bit low. Since My Ruger has a bull barrel and is considered a 'target' model, the rear sight has both windage and elevation adjustments -- I'll have to make a couple minor adjustments. But before I do that, I want to run some more rounds though it in a controlled manner and really figure out what's going on.

Anyway . . . . I can't wait to go again. And the event at doubletrouble's is only 3 weeks away.

Do I like my purchase? Am I happy with it? You bet your pasty white, dago-wop ass I am. [ed: My ass is not pasty white. I'm Italian. It's olive...]

This is my Ruger. There are many others like it, but this one is MINE.

Oh . . . and I've named it, too. Since it is my first, the name is now Cherry. First, Cherry . . . get it?

Awesome. Just awesome.

Interestingly enough, my first gun was a Ruger as well. Shortly after getting my license some [mumble] years ago, I walked into the gun shop portion of the range where I'd taken my first pistol shots, looked at the cases of handguns, and selected a 6" barrel Ruger Security Six in .357 Magnum. It was sleek. It was chambered in the .357 Magnum I would come to love so much. It was cheap. And the cylinder only backed out on occasion!

But she was mine.

There is simply nothing like the first gun that you plunk down your hard-earned cash to buy. In the years since I got the Security Six, I've acquired many different firearms, some better, some worse, some simply different. But when I take the Security Six out of the safe, it fills my hand like nothing else - because it brings with it the memories of being the first.

Enjoy Cherry, Brad - and never let her go.

That is all.