A confession
OK, so I confess.
No, no I didn’t garrote the Roads commissioner in Indiana as I had fantasized about, nothing that fun.
Mostly, my confession is about this:
See, I bought this nearly a year ago. I love the rifle, it’s sweet as can be. it’s a Remington 241, A Speedmaster automatic. I absolutely love the way it looks and handles.
I just can’t shoot it worth a damn.
Oh, it’s clean and the bore is bright; with a sandbag I can make 1/2″ groups at 50 yards all day. It’s not the rifle, it’s me.
I shot and shot and shot, and I could not even put holes in the black of an A-36 to save my life, at 50 feet.
So I hadda pull this out.
I managed to get this rifle to do things I could never get the Remington to do, and it flatly pisses me off.
See, it’s not about how nice a rifle is, how much it costs, what the reviews said. it’s about how well you can get the bullet to go where you want it to go.
The Cugir training rifle is a damned nice rifle, if crudely finished; it shoots straight, and has an unusual drop to the stock, which fits my shoulder nicely- I begin to understand what Kim Gun Guy sees in those “hogback” rifles from BRNO.
Anyway, instead of being able to say I shot those postal match targets with my very nice Remington 241, I have to say I used a $59 romanian training rifle.
Keep them in the X ring, folks.
Isn’t ergonomics a bitch?
Rich
I felt that way about my Ithaca pump 12 ga. All I had to do was look at a bird with that stock in my shoulder and squeeze. No point, no aim, just look.