I got to the range early, but still took the last rifle position and set up to shoot three sighters and five on the 100 yard target. And along came John, panting after a real old war rifle, drooling about how he wanted to shoot one, own one and a bunch of other things. And I had bristled when he said 'olde' cause the rifle is six years younger than I. I am a kinder and gentler fellow than my rifle, so I set up and talked to him and his shooting partners, friends of the kind that own rifles and ammunition, and being gun people willing to let him shoot theirs. Of course, this is Bloomberg's Washington, so without a national background check no one could allow the guy to shoot. Then again, the FBI said the whole background check doesn't work as advertised - we could have mentioned since it was government it wasn't meant to work, just feel good. Like sexual activities and no conception, the government.
Anyway, the sights were on, but a bit left, so I allowed my first round (in case the rifle were going to kill its operator in a suicide attempt or a neighboring shooter) to be sighted and shot by the total stranger. His finger prints are on the trigger, sir, no I don't know his name, but you have the DNA evidence, don't you? Since I was looking through the spotting scope I know no targets were perforated by that round. It just doesn't count. He thanked me for the experience.
I slung up, fired two, checked them, went right about four clicks, and fired the remaining five. All my rounds hit the target.
|The rifle is pointed at the two hundred yard target, which has a black six inch center.|
Shooting a Known Distance qualification course or two on Thursday this week, wish me luck!