I went to a shooting range yesterday with my sons and a couple of their friends. There is so much to say about yesterday.
It was so nice to spend a day, we went out to dinner afterward, with them.
I enjoyed the shooting range much more than I anticipated.
It all started out, with a bit of, necessity isn't the right word. Desire isn't quite right either. Let's start at the beginning...
My husband bought me a gun, a .32 revolver, shortly after we got married, almost 35 years ago, with the intention of teaching me to shoot. He never asked if I knew how. He took me out to the country, I fired the gun twice, hitting the target (a corn cob on the ground) with the second shot. The gun was tucked away after that. Thankfully, I've never had a need to use it.
In recent months, I have started considering getting a concealed carry permit. As is normal for me, I can get really tied into an idea. I did some research, it's what I do, and realized that I needed to prove to myself that I was still capable of hitting a target.
I had never been to a gun range. I am happy to report that I was not made to feel uncomfortable at all. Sometimes that happens in places where there is too much testosterone. The man running the shooting line even came over and gave me some suggestions. I shot both of my son's guns, and their friend's gun, a couple of 9mm and a .40 Glock. I had no problem handling the larger caliber guns. It took a bit to get it right, but in the end the line guy came over and commented how well I was doing. That final target had 3 shots in the center, and the other 3 were within the first 3 rings. I was pretty proud of myself.
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