Disgusted

Dutchman came through town looking to celebrate his birthday with me. Since we are 19 days apart, we have celebrated almost all birthdays together since we turned 19. Anyone remember Pizza and Pipes in Federal Way? Yeah, it was quite a party that first year….

Like me, Dutchman transferred his rifles over here, so we picked up a few pieces and went shooting. Ok, he picked up six and I only one that I wanted to work with. Of course, I had been working on getting us ammo for this shoot for weeks.

But, it was a cursed shoot.

Poor Dutchman, five of his rifles had scope problems. I have to admit I have never seen so many scopes fall apart. I wonder if the shipping crate had been dropped or something?! Well, too late now to worry about, he will just have to fix them as he is able. His sixth rifle he had pulled for the day was my old sniper. A sweet rifle but my lord it is an unpleasant beast.

Dutchman took his first shot, which brought people running to find out what the heck he was shooting. Yeah, I think I told you the story once about my first time with that rifle and how people were throwing up 75 meters away on my second shot! It was about the same for Dutchman. He looked back and me with that guy grin that says, “I love this! Help me, I think I ruptured my spleen….”

Of course, one can not admit they might have been injured, at least until we were walking to check the targets and he could not lift his right arm. (Ok, I will admit I am smiling here….) So, his day was over.

Now I had brought a Marlin Papoose of about 40 years in age. Love that little guy and had been working on my ballistics to figure out how it would shoot at 100 yards. In theory, with a 4-12x scope it should perform quite well. Yeah, in theory.

No idea what was going on but across 7 brands of ammo, not a single bullet hit the paper. I did manage to kick up a dirt clod that whacked the target though.

Sigh, back to my research to figure out what went wrong. And, I am not beyond believing that it might be the ammo. I just have to find my chronograph, somewhere in this disaster to know for sure if it was me, the ammo, or even a bent barrel.

Sure would suck if it was me.