Neanderpundit

having never had a holster that fit my carry gun, I usually just pocketed it. This made it useless, of course, in any kind of an actual emergency, but at least I had it. And then I got the homemade one finished.
So saturday i wore it. I put it on and took it around all day. And you know what? it felt great. It rides at a good position, it’s out of the way of my pocket, and it feels nice on my hip. And that’s in the first ten minutes. And then I don’t notice it at all, except to make sure my shoot-me-vest is pulled down over it at all times.

I might put a loop in the back of it so it has three points of attachment. otherwise, I like it just fine.

more than a moving violation.

I know the cop was doing his job, and he was polite, and he warned me for the 9 over.

but I got a ticket for no seatbelt.

Now, I have no trouble with the right kind of restraints. A five point is an excellent idea in any vehicle, and I’d put one in the truck if it was legal, and I’d use it.

I hate seatbelts. I do not drink the koolade that says they save lives. I have yet to see any compelling evidence that they do, that was compiled by independant individuals, on modern vehicles. Each time I have been in an accident I have been harmed more by the seatbelt than by the accident itself.

I also don’t buy that somehow driving with a seatbelt is in any way more dangerous than riding a motorcycle, which is legal. No motorcycle has seatbelts. Driving a motorcycle, like driving a car, is inherently dangerous, and it is predominantly the skill of the driver that mitigates that danger, not spurious ill conceived pseudo safety equipment.

But I can’t fight this, no matter how I try. So after thirty two years of driving predominantly without a seatbelt, I’m going to begin wearing mine, and my rage at this burns with the fury of ten thousand suns. But this isn’t the hill I want to die on, and so I’ll knuckle under to this bullshit and deal, and hope the creeping incrimental bullshit stops there, at least for now.

So today I went to the range with partner, and my double rifle- Did I mention I have a double rifle? Anyway, I got to shoot it for the first time.

Oh, my god.

here’s a target. Well, not actually a target. I got to the range and realized in my haste to shoot the new baby, I had packed the rifle and the ammo, and little else. So i took a sharpie and drew a dot on a piece of cardboard. Here it is.

Range 50 yards. The dot is around two inches. The bulletholes form a constellation. The constellation’s name is “Ouch”.

The rifle was regulated with factory Hornady Leverevolution rounds, so that’s what I bought. They’re not loaded hot. I’m told that this rifle will take more, but I won’t be pushing it. At least not now. It comes to your shoulder with some authority, but the gun has enough weight that it absorbs some of that for you. What it does do, is punch you in the face.
The stock feels fine, I have a perfect weld on it, and when you pull the trigger it’s like catching a left hook. Not from Ali, but it hits hard enough that you notice. After ten shots, I had developed a knot of sorts under my cheekbone.

I felt SWELL.

Yes, there are eight shots in the cardboard. They’re all in an 8″ circle. The other two shots went into a bowling pin. WHich was actually still hot from the impact when I picked it up afterwards.

And it has a name now.

When I first got it, I couldn’t stop touching it. (I told you it was like having a huge wiener) And I felt like Lenny. I wanted to hug it, and pet it, and squeeze it, and call it George.

And then I shot it, and it named itself. I put those eight rounds through the cardboard, and I was admiring it, when Partner points behind the target, and says “Jesus Christ”.

There’s a hole in the berm, about a foot deep and about three feet across. From eight rounds.

It’s name is “Backhoe”