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Joe Magnum

"Yes sir, I’d like a lane please."

"Buddy we’re all looking for Elaine, heh, heh!"

Wise guy. "I mean I’d like some range time."

"Ok, we’ll put you on lane number 8. Let’s see what you got in there, got to check your guns. Hum, a 44 mag eh?"

"Yea, I just got it last week."

"You sure you can handle it?"

Why does everyone keep asking me that? "Yea"

"Need any ammo?"

"No, I’m good to go."

"Ok, you know the drill, eyes and ears on the range at all times."

"Thanks."

Ok, lane eight, here it is. Boy sure is crowded in here today. Seems like every time I come here the shooters are getting younger and younger, that’s a good thing I guess. Well, now it’s time to see what all the big deal is about shooting these things. Seems kind of heavy, I’ll just set it up here, remember your basic safety rules. Ok, gun pointed down range, action opened. I’ll just set my ammo up here.

"Hey mister, what kind of ammo is that?" This kid all dressed in black walked over and asked.

"Those are hand loads son you see, I roll my own." Obviously, the kid had no clue.

"Gee, I bet you save a lot of money doing that."

"Yea, once you overcome the initial cost of buying the equipment, heck it’s practically free."

"How much does it cost to get started?" Here was my chance to set another shooter on the path to the pleasures of hand loading.

"Well, it only cost me $7,239.23 to get set up not counting the powder and primers and brass. So, after I shoot 874,359 cartridges the equipment will have paid for itself. There’s this famous old guy, I think his name is Murback, he invented the reloading press, and actually I think he won some kind of Nobel Prize or something. Anyway, he saved enough money reloading his cartridges that after fifty-seven years he was able to buy his own private island in the Caribbean, or maybe it was Prince Edward Island, anyway, he’s real rich now."

"Gee mister, I only paid $4.19 a box for this 9mm stuff at the Mega Mart. I don’t think I’d save any money reloading my own." He said skeptically.

"Well, you see son, hand loads are more accurate than store bought." He showed me a target. "Hey, that’s pretty good shooting!"

"Thanks mister, I shoot a lot here. I’m not sure about this reloading stuff."

"Yea, well, if you were a hand loader I wouldn’t need to explain it, because your not, no explanation will do."

The boy looked befuddled; this one always gets ‘em.

"What’s the matter kid? Cat got your tongue?"

"What the heck does that mean?" He said inquisitively.

"It means, um, well, I’m not exactly sure, but there’s this famous old guy that writes books about big guns, I think his name is Taffy. Anyway, he’s always saying it, so it must be important." At this point I felt obligated to clue the kid in.

"Oh. I mostly just shoot 9mm and .38’s." It was time to take the kid to school.

"Yea, well, the only thing this guy shoots is .44’s and bigger. You should read some of his books. He started writing back in the ‘30’s for gun magazines and stuff."

"Wow, dude must be real old. Does he still write?" Couldn’t believe the kid never heard of this guy.

"Yea, I guess he does. You see, he’s real famous because he invented the .44 magnum. He made a bunch of money writing about it. You ever watch any of those ‘Dirty Harry’ movies?"

"Yea, they show those old movies on cable some times."

"Well, this guy taught Clint Eastwood how to shoot. He bought like three counties in Colorado with the money he made. Once a year he invites these guys, I think he calls it "The Wheelgunners Holiday," anyway, they all come and shoot and eat and talk about big guns." I knew this would impress the boy.

"Cool, how does he decide who gets to come?" Was this kid for real?

"Not just anybody gets to come. You have to be a famous gun writer, or movie star, or I think if you’re from Texas you can get invited, I’m not sure. Anyway, the gun companies bring all these guns for them to shoot, and after it’s over, they get to take them home for free!"

"For real?" He said incredulously. Now, to really impress him.

"Yea, I know some guys that got invited. You get to shoot all day long, and then if you want they have a spa, and then, they have like a buffet with all this fancy food that you can eat all day long." I guess that’s why most of these guys are pretty portly. "Anyway, at the end of the week, they pick some famous old guy and give him this real fancy gun that’s all engraved in gold. All the other guys get awards too. It doesn’t cost ‘em nothing, he even pays for the airplane tickets. I think he’s a pilot too, cause he’s flies his own plane, but he only flies once a year to this big shindig, because he’s so old."

"Wow, this guy sounds like Howard Hughes." I didn’t expect that one!

"Yea, actually, he was good buddies with Howard Hughes, I think he taught him how to fly."

"This guy must be one gnarly dude. He sounds like that dude in Tennessee who rides Harley’s and writes about guns on his website. I checked him out a few times. But I think he’s a young dude."

"Yea, I don’t know anything about websites and computers but I think I’ve heard of him. They say twenty years from now he’s going to be one of the "new" old guys. Anyways, it was good to talk with you I’m going to shoot a little now." I kind of felt bad brushing junior off.

"Sure mister, blast away."

Gee, I can’t believe that kid never heard of any of those guys. I guess that’s what comes from shooting plastic guns and playing video games I’m glad I grew up in the age I did. Well let’s load this gun up, huh; these cartridges seem kind of big. Ok, gun pointed down range, just remember, sight alignment and trigger control. I wish I could see that front sight better, and it keeps jumping around. Ok, finger on trigger and smoothly squeeze. Don’t anticipate the shot, don’t anticipate the shot, don’t anticipate the shot… I’m anticipating the shot. Let’s start over. Alright, just smooth on the trigger now…BOOM…where’d the gun go? Good grief, it’s over my head! It looks like I’m trying to shoot the ceiling! Quick, pull the gun back on target. Man, I’m glad I brought a whole box of ammo; it’ll probably take that many to master this thing.

"Hey mister, you alright, your hand is bleeding." The kid just finished another target with the bulls eye cut out and was watching me.

"I guess so. You got any band aids?" Note to self: restock band aids in gun bag.

"No, that doesn’t look like much fun." It wasn’t, now I know why all those old gun writers are so cranky.

"You just have to get used to the recoil kid." I said as I let go with another shot.

"You better do something about that cut, you’re bleeding all over your gun, dude." This kid was starting to annoy me. I put about half a roll of masking tape around my wounds and went back to the task at hand. I let go with the rest of the cylinder and then checked my target.

"You might want to bring that target in closer you only hit it three times." This kid was really bugging me now. Actually I was amazed I hit the target at all. My wrist felt sore, and I had to add more tape to my hand. I hung another target, loaded up another cylinder, and let fly down range. I soon realized why all the gun magazines showed pictures of guys with big grizzly bear paws for hands shooting these things. Come to think of it, I can’t recall in all my years of reading those rags anybody with "chicken bone arms" like mine pictured shooting them.

"You quitting already dude? Why don’t you try my nine?"

Sadly, I realized that my mastery of large caliber revolvers was not going to happen.

"Ok son, let’s trade" I said resignedly.

"Cool!"

Postscript: Junior proceeded to shoot the rest of my reloads with nary a flinch. I shot his 9mm without injuring myself, and found it to be more "fun." I tried to trade him out of it, but he would have none of it. I think I would have been able to close the deal if my 44 had a "black" finish.

Disclaimer: This article is written for entertainment purposes only. The author makes no claim as to whether the actual events depicted in the story actually took place, although judging from the gashes on his hand, it’s probable. Should the reader feel inspired to take up the mastery of big bore guns, he/she assumes all risk and author will not be held liable for any and all injuries acquired while firing, handling, talking about, or arguing over these guns. Also, author will not be held responsible for any loss of consortium, financial hardship, divorce or anything else that happens to those who pursue this activity. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!

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