A couple of days ago I took several rifles out to the range to check zero and do a little playing. When I got home I discovered my Browning A-Bolt was missing. I high-tailed it back to the range at slightly illegal speeds; a 30 minute drive. When I pulled up behind the firing line an elderly gentleman picked up my cased rifle and started walking toward my car with a big smile on his face. "I decided to wait on ya. I knew you'd be back". Whew! A nice old guy. I made a new friend. Are there, as a rule, any people greater than gun people? I don't think so.
Guess I'm gonna have to start taking a check list with me.
Guess I'm gonna have to start taking a check list with me.

