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? :) Gotta love that about her,
right? Well, damnit, they'd kept us waiting until dead last so we
wouldn't delay the "more proficient" applicants; I couldn't resist
showing off a little.

I'd bet a cookie that there was some parkinglot conversation among the
instructors afterwards...

Vicki wished she had shot better today. Did I mention that she is a
wee bit competitive? :) I told her that's how it goes; she was
stressed with performance anxiety that built as we were kept waiting,
and she still performed, needing considerably fewer than the expected
number of rounds to completely satisfy her RO that she was
unquestionably proficient. I was proud of her and said so. I saw
the target that a self-proclaimed (per baseball cap) former Navy Seal
had shot. Vick's was close to as good. I mentioned that.

GLOW!

That would mean something to Vicki because she loves me. She HATES
GUNS but still took the training I wanted her to have. She now knows
how to handle a handgun safely, has some proficiency with one, and
she knows the laws and legal bounds that govern self-defense with a
firearm in Minnesota. Does this woman love me or whut?

PAYBACK: I think there may be golf in my future, shudder, but fair's
fair. Do I love this woman, or whut? Golf? Foreman? OMG! Peals of
laughter are in our future...

We enjoyed fall color on the ride home, singing along with the radio,
absolutely perfect autumn day and the late afternoon western sun
beautifully illuminated the fall colors as we proceded east on I-94.
We had leftovers at Vick's house for dinner. We'd been to Buca
(really good Italian restaurant near her) earlier in the week, had an
ample stash of shrimp Florentine with linguini in her fridge to
reheat and share, along with a nice chilled Riesling.

Life could be worse.