By now, you’ve figured out that we moved up to the Central Coast of California. My job hasn’t changed, I just commute southward bound instead of northward bound.
We’re now genuine Central Coast residents and we’re loving it! There’s so much to do and see and we’re loving every bit of each new discovery. We just got an annual membership the Santa Barbara Zoo, thanks to the in-laws, so we’ll be able to go there as much as we want. We’ve also visited state park, Montana del Oro, twice. It’s a beautiful park, on the coast, just south of Morro Bay.
Without going into a huge post, detailing all the wonderful destinations available to us now, I’ll just share some photos from the last two. Our recent trip to Montana del Oro and the SB Zoo.
In recent months, my interest in firearms and the possibility of hunting has been growing and growing. Earlier this year, my grandfather gave loaned me a wonderful Remington .22 bolt action rifle. He had bought it when he was about 14 years old, and had kept it in great working order since then.
Going back a few months before, I had begun looking for a very inexpensive bolt action .22 rifle, to use in instructing my kids about the safety and importance of firearms. My own experience in the Boy Scouts of America had been a good one, and I wanted to pass that off onto my own kids.
Remembering those sweet old bolt action .22’s we used at summer camp, I started looking around. Unfortunately I couldn’t come up with a low priced option.
Fast-forward to my grandfather’s offer for his own, near perfect rifle. This rifle was exactly what I was looking to use with my kids. Its characteristics include; bolt action, .22, single shot, and iron sights. Just what I was looking for! In fact, those sights aren’t just plain old iron sights. They’re aperture sights, which are really nice, and great for learning.
So the first chance I had, I had that rifle cleaned and examined, just because of its age. Then I got my oldest son and we headed out to the firing range. Near my home there is a great club, the San Luis Obispo Sportsman’s Association. My wife’s step-father also went with us. We were shooting during Thanksgiving week. What a wonderful time we had. I took my own handgun, and my father-in-law took a older .32 Colt semi-auto.
I set up my son, commonly referred to as The Padawan, on the sit down bench. He was excited and ready. With his hands properly placed, he is just large enough to use this rifle safely. We went over the important safety information, and I demonstrated a few example shots.
At 25 yards, The Padawan was immediately capable of hitting a standard 14″ x 24″ target. His understanding of “grouping” is still a work in progress, but he was hitting the target with each round.
I started out standing over The Padawan and assisting him with everything but pulling the trigger. I was opening the bolt, placing the next round, and closing the bolt. Then I would cock the gun, when he was ready. Within minutes he wanted to open the bolt, then he wanted to close the bolt. It didn’t take long for him to be doing everything but cocking the rifle. (That takes a bit more strength than his 6 year old hands have.)
I was really impressed with his willingness to try and learn each of the mechanical steps necessary to fire the rifle. But more than that, his patience and attention to detail was clearly paying off in accuracy, from the beginning!
So, with 25 yards clearly a bit easy, I decided to have him try 50 yards. Since the range was still hot, and we couldn’t go down range to change the target’s distance, I quickly had The Padawan switch to a farther target of a short run of steel gongs. These steel targets are about 10 or 12 inches in diameter, and hang from a stand that has 5 or 6 targets. I instructed The Padawan in where to shoot, and where to aim at the painted white target.
His first shot ended with a ping! Then the next. This continued until he slowly began to show that he was accurate about 50% of the time. I was so proud! So, I’d like to take this opportunity to let you all know that The Padawan has been promoted; he will now be known at The Sniper. Those sweet aperture sights seem to work really well for him.
It was a great day and I can’t wait for the next opportunity to head out and push his limits even further. My hope is to have him grow and learn, without discouraging him with too difficult of a distance.
I’ve been shopping for a deer rifle, for myself, and I don’t think it will be too long before a .22 isn’t enough for The Sniper. I’m looking for a .30-06, but we’ll make a few more stops along the ballistic journey before he gets there.
Clinging to my guns, NASCAR, and my Bible…What are you going to do about it, Barry?
Today I went to a local shooting range with a friend. We took two of his rifles; a nice old .243 bolt-action and his .30-06 bolt-action hunting rifle. He needed to sight-in the hunting rifle, as he had an unsuccessful deer hunting trip a few weeks back.
We had a great time, and I enjoyed the opportunity to not only help a friend, but to shoot one of his rifles. This trip only solidified my desire to get one of my own, soon. It’s so much fun, just going to the range for a few hours and shooting at targets. I can’t imagine the fun of actually getting out and hunting.
As we were walking up the range, to tape up our targets, I looked down and realized that I was wearing a NASCAR t-shirt. No one would think twice about seeing a NASCAR shirt, at a shooting range. Then I considered that I should have brought along a small pocket Bible. That way, I could have been the perfect opposite of Obama’s America.
I pull up to my parking spot at the local supermarket, for a quick trip inside. As I get out of my car, I notice a sweet looking 1968 Ford Fairlane pull up in front of me. Real clean. Walking by the white beauty, I hear the teenaged daughter ask her 50ish dad, “Can I drive it home daddy, pleeeeease?”
“Sure honey.” I head inside.
I walk towards the beer aisle, looking for that new Budweiser, American Ale. I hadn’t tried it yet, and thought I’d give it a chance. Not bad, but that’s another story.
Searching for the bad-beer-maker’s-attempt-at-good-beer, I realize that the Fairlane Dad is standing near me. He too wants beer. Just then, a pair of high school aged boys appear on our aisle. They were not remarkable until they decide to grace us with their small vocabularies and ignorant view of appropriate alcohol intake. “Oh f##k, I’d love to get s##t-faced tonight!”
Without hesitation, Fairlane Dad has turned and barked, “Watch your mouth! That’s not appropriate.” Score one for Fairlane Dad. I think I’m going to like it here on California’s Central Coast. The boys scamper off.
I found my selection and wandered to the capitalist altar, the cash register. Who stepped behind me in line? Fairlane Dad. Just beer, too. As I’m paying, the potty-mouths arrive, and realize too late that they’re directly behind the Fairlane Dad. They have a tag-along. She says, “Brian, mom said I could get a soda.” I don’t think Brian was intending on purchasing her a soda.
“I’m not getting that for you, bitch!” Brian did not learn his lesson.
As if he has decided that Brian’s dad clearly forgot something, Fairlane Dad turns quite rapidly, “I cannot believe that you just spoke that way to your sister! Who do you think you are! If I was your father, I’d take you out and kick the crap out of you.” Everyone is looking, Fairlane Dad has yelled, and he doesn’t care. I like Fairlane Dad. Brian is red, only red. Oh yeah, and he’s quiet.
As things turn back to normal, I leaned back and said, “Is that your Fairlane I saw you climb out of?” Fairlane Dad, “Sure is, it’s a ‘68.” I added, “It’s real nice.” He thanked me, and off I went, home to try my beer, thinking, “There should be just a few more Fairlane Dads. Makes things a bit better.”
Oh yeah, it wasn’t just beer for me. I’m an impulse shopper. I grabbed that low priced Hershey’s package of individually wrapped chocolate. It was a great price, get off my back.
