|Some of the best times of my life have happened around a campfire,|
Speaking of camping, yesterdays post made me remember a gun/camping related story.
Back when I was single I would go camping often when the weather was good. Well, when the weather was bad too, actually.
I had a deal with a friends parents who had a cabin in the mountains. They would let me camp there when ever I wanted if I would do maintenance and mow the grass when I went. They had a cinder block cabin that was never really finished. It didn't have electricity but it had a fireplace and a flush toilet. I never slept in the cabin unless the weather was really bad because there were sooo many mice in residence I could not sleep because of their all night parties.
It also had a 24x24 foot deck. I loved it. I put my 10x10 dome tent up on it. High, dry, no mice and as long as it wasn't torrential rain it was great. It was in the middle of 60 acres, next to the National forest. The nearest neighbor was about a mile away. Great hunting and shooting spots everywhere.
Anyway, I was camping there one weekend with some buddies. Some of the maintenance we were doing involved spray paint. We always did the work first thing on Friday right after arriving and then relaxed. Usually only an hour or two of work. Then it was time for the steaks, Spam, beers, camp fires, cigars, lies and relaxation.
Saturday was usually an all day shoot. Pistols, rifles, and shotguns. Thousands of rounds. Mostly .22LR were sent down range. We used paper targets, cans, jugs of water, pumpkins, cinder blocks, clay pidgins and even spent shotgun shells and 9mm brass as targets.
Sundays were big bacon and eggs breakfasts followed by packing up. On this specific "pack up" my brother was policing up trash and he picked up a spent spray paint can we had used for the Fridays maintenance that had, to our amazement, escaped destruction.
With barely a thought, he looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and said, "bet you can't hit this in one shot with the Mossberg from the hip." I was ready to try in 5 seconds. Little did I know at the time, that a spay can that was out of propellant didn't mean all the paint was gone...
He tossed the can, my aim was true.
The can turned into a cloud of silver paint that slowly drifted back toward us as we ran. My truck, however, was unable to flee...
--My Mossberg 500 still has a little silver paint on the pistol grip. Makes me smile every time I see it.