The 39a, on the other hand, was an all around happy camper. I sighted her in and we were busting clays out to 100 yards on irons. It was loads of fun and could do no wrong, proving once more that sacrificing an SKS to buy it was the right decision. The XDm .45 was also a winner. The thing continues to be stupid accurate, even in my hands. Annihilating clays out to 50 yards with the big ol' 45acp was just as much fun as plinking at 100, and I burned through 4 mags easily...
...Which is where our sordid tale begins.
The location is Table Mesa, AZ. If you've never been out there, it's off the highway a-ways with several little turnoffs people use to shoot into the hills. It's pretty littered with junk of all sorts, but even the shot up junk makes for good stands and such. You'll usually have company often enough, and you try to judge if you're going to be shooting with somebody responsible or some idiots. The first turnoff we chose were idiots, who were actually shooting way down inside a ravine, ensuring everybody elses rounds would be going over their heads. We pass and choose another turnoff. Not as nice, but nobody there.
Until a beatup white Honda shows up, parking near the entrance. A hispanic gentleman gets out-- jeans, wife beater tee and beer in his hand. Yay. He parked a ways away so i'm not horribly concerned until he just starts walking over. He talking about he's just going to park here and shoot, he'd go to another turnoff but he's low on gas, is there somewhere closers, etcetera etcetera, all while walking closer. My first thing is beer + messed up priorities between shooting and gas. Things aren't adding up. This guy is setting off all sorts of alarms now for both of us and my friend ducks behind the jeep to reload since both of us had just shot our pistol dry with no reloads on tap. There's a lesson in that.
I'm in not in an ideal position. I'm humoring the guy with an empty XD on my hip, a .22 lever rifle on my shoulder and a single shot AR five yards away. My only solstice is that I'm sure I look intimidating. He stops stops at about 15 yards, getting the idea that my buddy has been busy while I'm keeping him talking. Funny thing is i'm not overly worried about him. He's got nothing on his hips. Might have had something on his back or legs, but that'll give me time to react. I'm more worried about his super dark tinted rice-burner and who or what is inside.
Hombre gets the idea that maybe he's not the one in the best of positions and mosy back to the car whereupon we frantically load up as much pelosi as we can. He's still got some .40 and he's locked and loaded by that point. Sadly, my XD won't see any love since she's 45acp. Still, he's at range now and i can guarantee a headshot with the marlin, but I'm still concerned about that car. I throw what's left of the PMC into the AR mag because even as a single shot rifle, I want the ability to punch holes in that car.
Fortunately, this story has a happy ending: We left. I've always maintained that the first rule of a gunfight is not to be present for the gunfight. We had had our fun. I covered my buddy while he collected his stuff and we left while he was pulling three revolvers out of his trunk and commenced to dual wielding them on the paper target he set up.
Yep. There's a good amount of paranoia inherant in this tale, but there were too many things going wrong and we both concurred things were getting too sketchy. He could have been drunk and just friendly or he could have been looking us over to see how easy of a mark we were... I'm thinking a combination. Or some wierd, cohersive panhandling with the gas explantion in play. Even if everything was above the board, it still highlights my learning experience:
-Have a mag on you. Don't use it for fun. Sure you're having a great time shooting and all, but it really sucks when you just ran your gun dry and random chance comes calling like it did us.
-Have a zone of exculusion at which point your hand should be on your gun whether you plan to draw or not. Predefine that distance.
-Don't try to analyze their story. If it doesn't make sense, don't try to find ways to make it fit into a logical story. All that does is occupy brain cycles while he gets closer. You can second guess yourself later like I'm doing now
-Oh, and don't use Tula 55gr steel. It sucks hard.
Just like the park incident about a year back, thank God for life lessons in the form of nudges and not life or death bludgeons.
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