Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Monday, January 24, 2011

Good Day At The Range!

Booze, Cards & Guns. It's A Typical Texas Weekend!

It was a busy weekend for El Capitan!

First stop was the gun show at Reliant Arena to sell off a couple of gun room dust catchers. Since I bought the Walther PPK, I really didn't need the Charter Arms .38 snubbie, and the 6" Ruger Single Six is a MUCH more accurate .22 than the 2" barreled Smith & Wesson 2214, so those got bundled up and peddled off.

It was a bit of a wrench letting go of perfectly good firearms, but part of the $$ will be funding Project EBR, and the rest blown on cocaine and whores. OK, not really the coke. Maybe just a really inexpensive whore...

Or not...

Anyway, I got lucky while resting my overwalked feet, and an old codger offered to buy both of 'em. Got more than I paid for the pair while still giving him a $75 reduction on the "list" price. (and I was starting $100 LESS than the auction sites!)

We both walked away happy, so it was good all around. I don't worry so much selling the handguns to a guy in his 70's, either. Odds are he won't be carjacking a Lexus or sticking up a Mini-Mart. I could be wrong, but I doubt it.

An afternoon full of errands concluded with a drive up to the Cisco Kid's place, where I met him in order to drive up to the Safecracker's house on Lake Conroe for some poker.

We played poker until the wee hours, and I got pleasantly squiffy on Safecracker's scotch. With CK as the designated driver, I didn't have to cut myself off as early!

We were out on Safecracker's back porch watching the lake when I noticed the bell he had hanging on the porch rail had a Latin inscription. I was in the midst of puzzling it out, when Safecracker's son said "He reads Latin??"

I tried to explain in my slightly pickled state that it wasn't so much reading the Latin as digging down through 25+ years of condensed brain stuffing to try and unearth whatever got wedged in my noodle in 2 years of high school Latin.

I got it mostly figured out, but had to go find a Latin dictionary to get the last word. It translates (more or less) as "He who touches me hears my voice". A suitable quote for bells, or for siblings in the back seat of a car...

Sunday morning I shook off the alcohol fumes and wandered out to the ASC gun range to meet Zibig & CK.

The social aspect of it was not quite what I'd hoped, but I had a great day with the new PPK and some new loads for the .45 revolver.

The PPK shot like a dream. It's a little snappier than I expected, even allowing for the weight of the steel frame. I can only imagine how much of a slap you get from the polymer-framed Kel Tec P32!

I'm going to start calling it the Nazi Death Ray. It is, to quote a random Bostonian, "Wicked accurate!!"

I found a load that the .45 Redhawk likes. Not quite one ragged hole, but there's 50 rounds of 255 grain lead slugs that passed through that sheet of paper. Once I get that replicated with a 300 grain Keith-style bullet, it'll be time to go hog-popping!