Evil was found frolicking about on Sunday morning. A friend and I went to check the zero on the new sights for his Ruger bottom feeder. It seemed like as good a time as any to check the new Power Pistol loads in the 25-2 and my Kimber. The lack of Bullseye is killing us.
A quick tweak had his sights close enough to stack two rounds in one hole on his 15 yard target. It didn't take much longer to get the chrony data from the new loads.
Despite the pleasant morning and satisfactory results, something wasn't right. It almost felt like someone was watching us. Someone with bad intent.
As we were preparing to leave, we found the source of evil. Down at the far end of the range a ten inch plate was swinging ever so slightly in the breeze. It's slight shudder signaled it's intent to pounce as soon as we turned our backs.
With smooth and subtle movements, I slipped another moon clip in the big Smith. My shooting partner cleared the way and I was at the line in two quick steps. With a well practiced motion, I leveled the revolver and went for the trigger. I pulled it again and again until the firing pin found spent primers. The Smith barked six round. The sinister gong rang out six times. It jumped with each hit, staggering back each time.
When I lowered the gun, the gong hung limp. One chain broken, it swayed drunkenly clinging to life.
To guarantee it's ego was shattered, I handed my friend another clip. He drilled it five more times and gave it a final warning shot.
I don't think that plate will be bothering us again.
In all honesty, I consider it a tribute to the gun and the shooter when a man who has only put six rounds through a particular style of gun can pick it up months later and put rounds on a ten inch target at 50 yards.
We need to find a longer range. 50 yards is getting too easy with the 25-2.
A quick tweak had his sights close enough to stack two rounds in one hole on his 15 yard target. It didn't take much longer to get the chrony data from the new loads.
Despite the pleasant morning and satisfactory results, something wasn't right. It almost felt like someone was watching us. Someone with bad intent.
As we were preparing to leave, we found the source of evil. Down at the far end of the range a ten inch plate was swinging ever so slightly in the breeze. It's slight shudder signaled it's intent to pounce as soon as we turned our backs.
With smooth and subtle movements, I slipped another moon clip in the big Smith. My shooting partner cleared the way and I was at the line in two quick steps. With a well practiced motion, I leveled the revolver and went for the trigger. I pulled it again and again until the firing pin found spent primers. The Smith barked six round. The sinister gong rang out six times. It jumped with each hit, staggering back each time.
When I lowered the gun, the gong hung limp. One chain broken, it swayed drunkenly clinging to life.
To guarantee it's ego was shattered, I handed my friend another clip. He drilled it five more times and gave it a final warning shot.
I don't think that plate will be bothering us again.
In all honesty, I consider it a tribute to the gun and the shooter when a man who has only put six rounds through a particular style of gun can pick it up months later and put rounds on a ten inch target at 50 yards.
We need to find a longer range. 50 yards is getting too easy with the 25-2.
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