Range Report.

Fun Tam won, and I went shooting with a friend who also needed to burn some powder to get ready for an upcoming course. I got to the range too late to shoot with Brigid, but now I know where the range is and can find it on my own. Hopefully next time.

First things first was a few mags of defensive ammo through the '66 Colt. My first three shots cold drilled the X dead-on but I started getting a bit of vertical stringing midway through the first mag, and by the end of the third, I had chewed a nice, oblong hole at 6 o'clock on the bull, centered maybe an inch low. Time for the Ciener.

Popping the slide off the Colt the old-fashioned way, I replaced it with the .22 unit and ran about another 100 rounds rapid-fire, trying to concentrate on not slapping the trigger and not driving the muzzle down in anticipation of the shot. Once the rounds were landing back atop the front sight properly, I pulled out my 2" S&W Kit Gun and spent a few cylinders making sure I still knew how a double-action trigger works. Yes, I did. Oddly, I still shoot better cold with a DA revolver trigger. Once you get the hang of it, it's a lot like riding a bike. Just don't "stage" the damn thing; pull it through smoothly.

Back to the Colt. As I was putting the .45 barrel and slide back on the gun, it was quite apparent that someone hadn't cleaned her gun last time she shot it, plus it was bone dry. Oh, well. A couple hundred rounds of Georgia Arms 200gr semiwadcutters, CCI Blazer 200gr Gold Dots, and mixed FedRemWin 230gr ball later, it failed to lock open after a magazine. I borrowed some erl (that's how we pronounce it back home) from my shooting buddy and glurched a big dollop up under the bottom of the slide, holding the muzzle down so it trickled into the works, and schmeared some on the barrel hood and muzzle area, dropped the slide and ran through a mag with it spitting filthy oil on my hand. Locked back fine. Drive on. After a total of probably 225-250rds (wasn't counting, but I reloaded all four mags at least seven times) the 20lpi checkering was starting to hurt my soft wittle, un-gloved hands and I was only going to reinforce bad habits if I kept shooting, and so I was ready to call it a day.

Time to clean the Colt, I guess. Maybe after dinner.

(PS: Oh, and one of the rangemasters there had just picked up one of those Jerry .22LR MP-5 clones and let us give it a whirl. That thing was a hoot! I was wearing out a cartridge box at the base of the berm with no trouble whatsoever. Do want.)