To celebrate being given the day off for no particular reason, Navy Boy and I head out to the range, him to sight in his fancy new .22, me to chase that dragon that I call a 1-inch group with the .17 HMR.
When we got there we made an unpleasant discovery. Two straight days of rain caused what I started mentally referring to as Lake Strickland: a weird olive-drab colored puddle that stretched from the shooter's stalls all the way to the earth berm 50+ yards away. At each cease-fire I was tempted to ask Navy Boy to check and change my target while he was out there, but decided misery loves company, and that it would be ungallant to make him slog all the way out there by himself.
So while the men stoically forded the two- to four-inch flood and seemed not to notice the dirty water getting wicked up their jeans, I picked my way gingerly across, taking twice the time because I found hopping from one grass plug to the next kept me from sinking into the ick.
It probably looked pretty sissy, but I couldn't seem to care, because I had something that none of them had: a target with a ONE-INCH GROUP. That's right, b*****s. Don't mess with me, 'cause I can shoot a quarter from 50 yards away.
Pictures coming soon.
Update: The pictures have arrived.
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