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Live fire, and about damned time.
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Range trip. Thank goodness. I had a few weeks worth of reloads to try, a weeks worth of work worries to dissipate, and a couple boxes of cheap wal mart winchester 9mm's to burn.
I ended up with a last minute range buddy. I thought I was going to get out clean, but my eldest saw me grab my range bag, and I was put in one of those daddy predicaments. So, we grabbed his little savage cub, a box of federal lightning, and hit the road. So, I've been working with him about once or twice a month, just letting him punch paper off a rest with that little .22 of his. He'd been getting better, so I decided he might be able to hit a soda can at 25 yards, and set a few up. I had tried to avoid shooting at anything reactive with him as I thought it would really break his heart if he couldnt get one during a trip. His paper targets were telling me it was time to see how things would go. First shot, dust on the berm, maybe an inch high. He tells me "daddy, I missed it" We run the bolt, load a second, he gets on the stock, trigger finger resting on wood like i taught him, and did something I hadn't taught him yet. I saw a deep breath, a slow let out, then a beautiful smooth triger squeeze. That can jumped. He jumped, and I thought he was about to drop the rifle, it surprised him so much. We high fived, and he was on it again. 3 cans, 7 shots, one happy little guy.
I didnt shoot any of my reloads, and didnt bother hitting the long line, we went right over to dairy queen, and got blizzards. It's not every day you can sit down and have a blizzard with a rifleman.
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