One of my favorite guns is my old pre-numbers Target Masterpiece. Mechanically perfect, finish-challenged, which makes it an amazing sleeper piece for showing off. Helps that the gun is about twice my age.
Went to a range shindig once, just to be sociable, with a bunch of old farts and their spray-and-pray plastic bottom feeders. Nothin' against plastic bottom feeders, mind you, I own a couple. Plates are decent-sized, maybe six or seven inches, distance is a bit over 10 yards. So really, bigger than the whole target is in Bullseye.
Stepped up to the line in front of six pieces of falling steel, and unholstered my sleeper .38.
First old fart pipes up: "Does that thing even shoot?" So I take my time leisurely loading up six 148-grain full wadcutters, adopt a two-handed Isosceles stance, and take six single-action shots.
*ding*-*ding*-ding*-*ding*-*ding*-*ding*
Second time up, same stupid old fart: "I bet he can't do that double-action!" Six more 148s.
*ding*-*ding*-ding*-*ding*-*ding*-*ding*...and I rather smugly dumped my empties into my pocket and reholstered.
Third time, I thought I'd get some peace and quiet, but noap. Stupid Old Fart was up in the next bay, in front of his plates, trying to jam a mag into his plastic gat.
"Well, no big deal using two hands and taking your time!" *sigh* Okay, double-action, one-handed it is.
*ding*-*ding*-ding*-*ding*-*ding*-*ding*--and I reholstered while he was reloading, trying to clear those last two pesky plates.
Range officer yells, "Now shut the **** up before he starts using his toes!"