I thought I'd copy this email to RCM. guess who its from Karl
Sunday 30 Sept 2012 was a splendidly gorgeous autumn day in MN. Indian summer, the kind of day we get only a couple of per year. Unfortunately, we spent a good part of it indoors. That's how things go some days. Today was Vick's training course that is required to secure a permit to carry a pistol. Vick has no intent to ever carry a pistol and in fact declares hatred of guns so she's doing this because she loves me. Roger that! I don't care if she ever carries or not, but I did want her to be educated in safe practice and MN law governing use of firearms for self defense because I do have handguns and occasionally even carry one. We showed up for class at 0900, were in class until about 1300. Then I thought we'd go to Bill's range in Robbinsdale (about 5 minutes distant) but instead they had us go to "In-Range" in Monticello which is more like 35 minutes distant up I-94 toward St. Cloud. Oh well, it was a very pretty day with lots of fall color to see so a very pleasant ride with Vicki's excellent company singin' along with the radio. Unlike some, that trainer doesn't herd trainees thru the shooting proficiency qual test: it's one-on-one for everyone. Vick was consigned to go last for some reason we're not sure of but we think it might be because she and her kibbutzing companion (me) were a decade older than anyone else in the lot so they may have figured that Gramma might need lots of coaching to pass. Their motto is that nobody fails. They work with each student until they pass. They've had a couple of young women that got so nervous they had to return for another engagement, but that's quite unusual. Vick had maxxed the written exam, no surprise there. When Vick's turn finally came up, the trainer that would be her RO (range officer), grader and coach was more friendly than the other two instructors had been. She has that effect on people one-on-one. We'd seen a number of the younger "more proficient" folks come out with two and three sparsely-holed targets, evidence that it had taken them several tries to get it right. Vick didn't shoot as well today as she did in our previous one-on-one training/practice session with me, but that would be hard to beat. We'd scored Friday's last target, she maxxed it. That day we used the LTR-II silhouette target used by many law enforcement agencies. The instructor/RO (range officer)/coach was quite satisfied after 20 rounds at various ranges that she was acceptably proficient and it didn't take her all bloody afternoon to demonstrate that. They'd said to bring 50 rounds of ammo so we brought 100, but I knew 20 would suffice for Vick. Done and done. This petite, attractive gramma was done in well under 10 minutes with a very creditable performance even though it was not even close to how she'd shot the previous Friday. He then asked me if I wanted to shoot. I said I was there merely as Vicki's companion, already had my permit. "Oh, right. Well, wanna shoot anyway?" Nobody left waiting in the queue, why not, right? Besides, I think he might have been curious. "OK, I might like to try a few rounds..." (please don't throw me in yonder briar patch, Bre'r Bear...) I asked if they had a one-gun-out-at-a-time rule on that range. He said oh, yeah, probably, so we cleared and cased the small pistol that Vick has used, got out my big black M1911A1 ".45 automatic" and a box of .45ACP ammo: big bullets. He clearly wasn't expecting that from Gramps! He put up a fresh target, a B-16 bullseye with 9" outer ring and 5" black zone, asked how far I wanted it downrange. I nonchalantly said whatever, run it down a ways. Their attitude is that if an applicant can put all (or most) rounds inside the 9" circle at 15 feet, an assailant would be stopped so they pass. He ran mine downrange maybe 25 feet while I slapped in a full mag, racked the slide, set the safety and set the piece down on the firing point with muzzle pointing downrange. They don't allow drawing at that range so I'd not brought a holster. He invited me to commence fire at will with a sort of sly grin. Being the compliant sort of fellow that I am, I did. I picked up my pistol, my muscle-memory-trained right thumb flicked off the safety as the piece swung up to acquire a sight picture while my body assumed a Weaver stance. I've done this so many times it's like a sneeze. When I had a sight picture, probably well under a second from first touch, I started firing and emptied the piece in well under 3 seconds. We're tawkin' full-boom .45ACP factory loads here, not .38 spl or even 9mm. I don't have to think about muzzle control in presence of even heavy recoil, it just happens. There's a big sign saying "NO RAPID FIRE" but screw that! We'd been kept waiting all freakin' afternoon and we strongly suspected that was because of our eldest appearance. It's about impossible to see holes, even big .45 holes, in a black target with a dark background. He looked at me like "what the hell do you think you're doing?". I invited him to reel the target back in so we could have a look. I wish I had a photo of his facial expression -- and the huge grin on Vicki's face. I'd have shot much better if I'd taken as much as a second or two per shot, but all of my rapidly-fired rounds were well within the 5" dia black region in a nice tight group. That (paper) assailant was definitely stopped with no time for shuckin', jivin', dodgin' or attackin'. He handed me the target, assuming that I'd want to keep it. I said no, please, and stuffed it in the refuse can. That raised another eyebrow because it was probably the best target he'd seen that day. Vick about strangled trying not to laugh. Have I ever mentioned that she can be a wee bit competitive? :