We arrived to a brisk cool wind and gray skies. Perfect weather for a day at the old farm. Pirate Jim and I arrived first and the first course of action was to build a fire. I wore a heavy black hooded sweatshirt and still the chill seemed bone deep. Out with the lighter.
So, I made a small campfire. Thankfully Pirate Jim had thermos of good hot coffee.
Senior and our resident hippy, Rebel, as they measure and cut lumber.
When six men work in harmony it doesn't take long to finish a task. We used scrape lumber salvaged from the old structure and from long discarded piles left at the farm and before long the yell, 'the range is hot,' was accompanied by live fire. It felt so damn good.
In this next picture notice the pair of legs just beyond the open ammo can. The ammo can belongs to me and is filled with nine millimeter Luger...the open puke green range bag and legs belong to my friend, Duke. Keep your eyes on the range bag....I had plans.
Below, a random selection from my gun safe. Even though it hurt I ran thirty rounds of 5.56 (yes, I own many evil thirty rounds mags) thru her. Oh, the pain. With every shot I kept a tally of cost. Still, it sure was fun.
Ah, the prize in sight. Duke's range bag. Look very carefully...see the old Smith .38.
Notice how the Smith has worked its way to my side of the bench. The ammo can gives concealment. Step two was a complete success. Sorry for the blurry picture but I was, you understand, in a hurry.
This next shot is of ShooterSteve's station. He's far too alert for one to gather needed items.
Just a box of ammunition. For those of you new to the gun culture guess its purpose.
Duke's Ruger in my range bag. He'll never miss it....
He's so easy. Once, when his back was turned I used forefinger and thumb to pinch a couple of extra 1911 mags. Don't tell him...
(boys and girls, I do not recommend you pinch items from range bags when the owners of said bags hold fully loaded rifles and handguns. Wait until they reload. The above demonstration is for training purposes only.)