It's Not My Fault!

Last week's troubles were all my fault...this week, the Shooting Gods were out for me. Maybe not me, personally. I might have been guilty by association, since Jon lost Major Mojo on riotgun and, [suspicious glare] was the last person seen shooting my Uzi while it worked [/suspicious glare].

All year, I shot revolver, hoping to see some competition. Today, I decided to have a Subgun Holiday (the league no longer has a SMG category) just shooting the four pistol stages for fun. Wouldn't you know it? Three wheelgun shooters showed up!


The first stage we shot was a pretty lame USPSA classifier stage (the League Poobah was pretty apologetic during the Shooting Meeting) whose fixed "Virginia Count" for rounds fired precluded any "rock and roll" on our part. The next was a three lane course featuring some cardboard target arrays, a plate rack, and a Texas Star. It would be the first and last time we'd get to enjoy ripping through a course firing short, controlled bursts. This stage doubled as the riotgun course.




I don't know what Jon did to piss off the Shooting Gods, but perhaps it had something to do with the iota of braggadocio in his voice when he commented that Winchester shells worked just fine in his Rem. 870 (mine hates them). When Jon futilely blazed through his shells with little effect on the plate rack, he thought that they might have been light #7-1/2 shot. Nope...they were #6s, just like mine, except that I leave quarterly offerings on the altar at the Pawn/Gun Shop for my Federal shotshells and leave the apostatic WW garbage in my junk ammo drawer for use in any of my guns limited to mid-19th Century technology.
I had several misses on the platerack myself, but I advanced to the Star and cleaned it handily.

Damn! I'm looking kinda fat and shaggy! I'll thank myself next week when I'm back East trying to keep warm. Did anybody not notice that I'm wearing shorts in early November? As John, the League Poobah, mentioned, "at last we have the weather we all moved to Arizona for."





Though it was sad to not engage the last stage with an automatic weapon, Jon and I made the most of our favorite format, Carbine, to end our day on a positive note. I'm confident (not seeing the final scores yet) that Jon whooped everybody. He beat me by 14-and-change seconds...and I had a miss (on a swinging target)!

Notice that I have a kneepad on my right knee? I've now got major carpet burn on my left knee! But my other kneepad I lent to Jon, shooting right behind me. That's what friends are for!


There's Jon zooming through the stage with basically the same weapon, except a big-ass magazine that obviates the need for time-consuming mag changes.

This stage required shooting through barrels or ports. Jon had no rug rash like I did.


I'm already looking forward to the December shoot, my last hurrah with the S&W 625 before I go Limited (Para P16-40) again next year. After enduring the frozen tundra of the Poconos for a few weeks, I'll be relieved to switch to Phoenix Winter Dress, a black T-shirt instead of a white one.