Seventy degrees plus under mostly sunny skies. Quite unusual but quite welcome for the fourth day of March, and with my motorcycle still in its winter hibernation I turned to my second passion in life and decided to send some copper and lead down range to add some extra pleasure and meaning to this beautiful day.
Some twenty-six years ago I purchased a case of twenty-two ammo. I was down to my last two-hundred rounds from that case, and I was determined to burn those last rounds up today. Though I have shot many more double duce rounds during the last twenty-six of my life, this particular case of ammo held a special place and memory for me.
My son was four years old when Judy, myself, and Lewie stopped at “Grice Gun Shop” in the next county one afternoon. There in the middle of the store was a display of Remington Viper twenty-two ammo. Case after case was stacked to the ceiling and on sale. Purchase of a case, approximately 2500 rounds, meant you were eligible to enter in a drawing for a go-cart, curtesy of Remington.
After picking up the ammo and filling out the required form, I asked Judy “Wouldn’t it be great to win that go-cart for Lewie?” Though I don’t remember the exact content of that exchange, I’m sure the fact that he was only four years old and that I just wanted a reason to buy a case of ammo came up. Both points I could not refute. I can however, attest to the fact that after twenty-six years, that ammo shot just fine.
As I was setting up the chronograph to test some handloads I made up during the long winter months, I heard a deep and distinct throbbing in the sky. A military helicopter was coming low over the western horizon and against an almost cloudless sky.
Being somewhat of a minor league motorhead, I have a fascination for military war birds and military machinery in general and I was fixated on the chopper as it approached me only a few hundred feet above. There’s was something about the deep rhythmic sound of those rotor blades that gave me a sense of awe and when it was just overhead, I gave the chopper and her crew a wave and a thumbs up. If anyone of her crew was looking downward at the time, I hope they saw me and know they have my respect.
(Later after returning home, I looked up the type of aircraft I witnessed and with its very distinct shape I found her to be a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk. A very beautiful bird.)
The air was getting warmer, and the sunshine felt good on my face and arms. I was in no hurry to finish my range time. This type of day so early in the month of March is a gift not to be taken in any degree of disregard or indifference.
I gathered my gun and equipment for some testing through the chronograph. (A chronograph is an electronic device for measuring the speed of a bullet when it’s fired from a gun.) I am partial to one type of projectile, manufactured by SinterFire, for my nine-millimeter handguns and carbine. I take pride in the fact that during my time there before my retirement, I helped produce these bullets and found them to be an excellent projectile.
After a few trial handloads I found that my favorite pet load to be still the best load for accuracy with a twenty-five-yard distance grouping of two inches from a rest. I’m sure younger eyes and steadier, less arthritic, hands would do much better.
I just received a phone call from my son Lewie. I texted him earlier to tell him a package had arrived for him. Lewie works in West Virginia and only gets home a couple times a month at most so it’s always a pleasure to see him and even better when we can squeeze in some range time as we have just done for tomorrow. So far retirement has been good.
Long Lonesome Highway 