Saturday

The observant reader -- or even not -- will have noticed a distinct lack of content Saturday.

It's Tam & Co. They're tryin' to wear me out!

Her shooty pal showed up around eightish and we proceeded to breakfast at one of the many nearby fine eateries[1]. Dee-lish it was (I had bread pudding for dessert -- it's the food the Greek Gods waxed wroth over when the kitchens on Mt. Olympus ran out, you know).

Thence back to Roseholme, just in time -- no, in plenty of time; there was a train in the way and then a car parked inside the perimeter -- to see the RCA Dome get blown up. Interesting and, for me, a little sad; I was in the crowd of onlookers when the dome was first inflated. So I've seen it get blown up...and blown, h'm, down? In? Blown up again, I guess.

And from that bundle o'thrills to The Range! Last week at the range, I had a little excitement; remember the small Star 9 mm iron I used to demonstrate my idea of minimum standards for a front sight? Shot that front sight clean off! Held by a little tenon that's staked inside the slide...right up until the day it shears in twain. I've put thousands of rounds through the little Star[2] and paid just over $100 for it, so I can't complain; I bought a few back when they were cheap, so it's not like I don't have parts. I grabbed a spare gun and tucked it in the range bag along with front-sightless Old Faithful and my #1 range gun, a Ruger Mk II, now fitted with a Pac-Lite upper.

Tam had her assortment (including a 1911 with a .22 conversion, Ciener I believe, plus the Gun Blog 9) and her buddy had...I dunno. Several, of which the kewlest the one I call the staplegun: a Ruger pistol with a fully-silenced upper. I find it difficult to shoot accurately: the recoil is a bit more than you'd expect from a .22, but the hardest thing to adjust to is that it does not go bang. Not even quietly and politely. The action makes some clicky sounds as it cycles, period. It's quieter than a roofing stapler -- sounds a bit like one in experienced hands, though: ksh-clack, ksh-clack, ksh-tack, ksh-tick, ksh-clack and there's half a mag, quick as can be. (All in the center of the target, too; my inaccuracy with it is definitely an operator issue).

My "spare" Star had a minor, occasional issue with sear engagement, resulting in a too-light trigger (probably needs cleaned and oiled, it's just sat in the safe since purchase); it was an easy matter to swap the slide over to Old Faithful. Then I had to tap the rear sight back into alignment; a previous owner had decided he knew way more than the manufacturer and had moved it -- who would'a guessed? -- way over to the left. There's a handy staking-punch mark on the slide and sight on this model. I don't know how well it keeps the sight from moving but it's certainly useful for lining it up properly. Spanish handguns have a mixed reputation but despite having slapped a new slide on the old barrel, it shot fine once the sights were right.

After shootin' up a storm -- and removing the centers of a few targets -- we packed up, shopped a bit, and started out on a loooong gunstore crawl, from Beech Grove Firearms to Bradis, a fun time. Afterwards, we retired to Broad Ripple's own Thai Cafe, for bowls of warm and wonderful soup, spring rolls, laab and pad thai. Yum!

I dunno where everyone else went after that -- once we'd returned to Roseholme Cottage, I excused myself and quietly fell asleep in my lab.
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1. It was Taste. Now where's my free-meals-forever card? ;)

2. Originally typoed as, "I've put thousands of rounds through the little State..." but Delaware just kept comin' at me...? Yeah, look for my new novel, Zombie States, where fine chewin' gum is sold. Or not.