36. fire a gun

The firing range we used was a desolate place. It was at the foot of some steep hills and encompassed a few erratic dirt roads and a wide scatter of detritus previous shooters had used as targets. We used a computer screen and tower, some particle boards, a clock, and a few other miscellaneous chunks of rejected ware.

It was great. I fired a hand gun, a .22, and an assault rifle. Somehow it's easier to take shooting seriously when the gun has more recoil. The .22 had no kickback and it was a little surreal to fire it. Pull the trigger, and mysteriously holes appear some distance away. Yes, I am a mature homo sapiens and have the mental wherewithal to infer a causal relationship between the two, but the hole becomes more obviously my work when the gun that made it attacks me. I don't know why this is so, but it is and it made the handgun a joy to play with.

Again thanks go to Ryan, who took me to where the guns are, and to Stirling, the good natured gun man who let an ignorant girl handle his weaponry. Je vous aime bien.