I am so Predictable

I had an interesting shooting experience yesterday.

I set three targets up in the pasture, drove the golf cart about 100 yards off, set up my table, popped out the bipod legs on my .17 HMR, put it on the table, and noticed that it had no magazine.

I’ve had the .17 HMR for something like 10 years. I don’t recall for sure. During that time, there have been many occasions when I noticed that the box magazine, which projects downward from the gun, was hard to seat positively. Somehow, after mashing it in place dozens of times, I did not put two and two together and say, “I’ll bet this thing could drop out easily.”

Well, now it has dropped out. I drove around the pasture and various other areas where I had used the rifle, and then I gave up, packed up, and went home.

I have a new gripe. Savage rifles only come with one magazine. Glocks come with two. S&W pistols come with two. Savage…one.

Prayer did not help. I checked websites to see which local store would have the magazine, and I ended up calling Gander Outdoors. They had the magazine. I was in business. I drove and got it.

The standard magazine holds 5 rounds, which is fine as far as I’m concerned. I can’t think of any reason why I would need to shoot more than that at one time. And it’s nice for target shooting. I like to shoot 5 rounds and take a break to think. With the Savage, you fill the magazine over and over, and you don’t have to count.

I also ordered a spare magazine. They sell 10-round jobs online for the same price as the 5-round magazine I bought locally, so I figured…what the hell. Can’t hurt. Now, in order to ruin my next outing, I’ll have to lose two magazines instead of one. That is somewhat less likely.

I like going to Gander Outdoors because a) guns, and b) I get to interact with Ocala people without my dad present. My dad lives in a black cloud of resentment and determined rebellion other people can smell, so even though I love him, I have to limit my exposure, especially when other people are involved. People who meet me when I’m with my dad and then get to know me later say I’m not at all like they thought.

The cashier pronounced my first name right. I was thrilled. In Miami, Cubans call me “Steffen,” and when I correct them, they argue with me! Okay, sure. I’m middle-aged, and until today, I didn’t know what my name was. Thank you. Gracias.

It’s not just Cubans. “Stephen” is a Biblical name, and people don’t read the Bible any more, so many people are familiar with it. The pronunciation problem happens mostly with Latins and, for some reason, blacks.

I would not be surprised if a lot of black people who love church don’t read the Bible. Black churches are really just community centers. Black people love church, whether or not they care about God. He’s sort of a side dish.

White people hate church, so when you see us there, it’s usually about God.

The lady at the register said she named her son “Steven,” with a “V,” because she was afraid people would get it wrong, even up here. I told her that when people pronounce it wrong, they’re admitting they don’t read the Bible, and they don’t even know it.

She has waited on me before. I can tell she’s a Christian. I don’t have to ask. Christians–and I don’t mean worldly people who go to mass on the way to the casino–radiate warmth other Christians can detect.

It’s great to be around people I have things in common with. Latin culture is selfish, abrasive, angry, loud, and packed with arrogance. Some Latin countries are not like that, but they haven’t made a big contribution to the population of South Florida. Living in Miami was like being dragged through thorn bushes all day. Every person I dealt with inflicted a fresh scratch.

Last week, I realized people here were healing me. The kindness and patience are filling in the Miami scratches as time passes. That’s exciting. I don’t want to feel sore and battered for the rest of my life.

I like not being provoked all the time.

I rarely talked to strangers in Miami. I didn’t like repeating myself over and over or using pathetic hand gestures to communicate, and I also didn’t like rude, condescending treatment. Here I surprise myself by blurting things out to people I don’t know.

Some day I might conceivably become friendly.

My mother always told me I had been a very warm, friendly, extroverted baby. She said I reached out to people and tried to get them to pick me up. I got sick and nearly died when I was about 8 months old. She thought that was what changed me. It wasn’t. My family changed me.

It would be weird to be like that again; to be friendly, I mean. I would not know myself.

I asked someone at Gander Outdoors about a .204 Ruger. They don’t sell or order them, so I think I’ll go with Bud’s. Daddy needs this gun. Bad. Yes he does.

Well, since I wrote the last paragraph, I have done splurged. This will shock no one.

I was going to get a .204 Ruger made by Savage, because Savage is great. But I learned something interesting. The .204 Ruger rifle has a problem reminiscent of the 10mm ammunition mess.

The 10mm round was intended to be a raging beast, but because some early 10mm pistols were inferior crap which didn’t hold up to the 10mm’s power, most ammunition makers neutered their offerings. This is a great reason not to buy a 10mm pistol unless you can make ammunition. To get acceptable velocities, you will have to spend $50 per box.

In a sort of similar failure, most makers of .204 Ruger rifles use a 1:12 twist in their barrels. This is fine for smaller rounds, but most people find they get poor accuracy with 40-grain bullets, which are desirable for certain things. The very thought of buying a .204 Ruger that isn’t accurate is appalling. A lot of people complain about the twist rate.

One manufacturer–Thompson/Center–bucked the trend and designed a .204 with a 1:11 twist. People say it works fine with 40-grain bullets. And it’s guaranteed to shoot 1 MOA at 100 yards.

You can buy a new barrel for a Savage, with a faster twist. But what’s the point? Part of the fun of buying a Savage is outshooting people who have expensive guns. When you blow $300 on a new barrel, you’ve moved up to a whole new bracket, and you still have Savage’s little crude touches, to remind you where you came from.

T/C’s popular .204 is the Venture. It comes in a Predator model. For an extra hundred bucks or so, you get a thin, slick layer of camo paint which wears off easily. I was not able to see any virtue in this option. The stock isn’t that great, and you can get a better one from Boyd’s. If you do that, then what do you have? A camo barrel and a stock that doesn’t match. And you paid for a stock you don’t use. And then the camo paint wears off the barrel, and things are even worse.

Here’s something else. While I was in my usual coma, someone legalized rifle suppressors in Florida. To put a suppressor on a rifle, you have to have the end of the rifle threaded. Imagine what that will do to your little painted twigs and leaves. I need a suppressor. It will make my rifle safer and more annoying to liberals. Plus, it’s cool.

T/C makes a Venture model without the “Predator” BS. It’s exactly the same, but it’s black, and it’s a lot cheaper. And right now, Smith & Wesson, which is apparently also Thompson/Center, will give you an insane $75 rebate. So you can get a killer centerfire varmint gun for something like $375.

Are you kidding? I HAVE to buy that. It’s coercion. I have no free will any more. It’s like they tied me up and threatened me with an icepick or a stack of Justin Bieber CD’s. “Buy the rifle or spend ten hours listening to Canada’s favorite moppet!”

I may be wrong about all this, but sooner or later you have to make up your mind and buy something, so I did.

Now I have to think about reloading. Brass is super expensive for this rifle, compared to .223 crap that comes from the floors of gun ranges, so I think the best bet is to start out with factory ammo and save the cases.

I have never reloaded a rifle round. Have to get that figured out. I can’t let the press fill the cartridges, because it’s not that accurate. I’ll have to measure each charge by hand. And all the other stuff about rifle rounds, like trimming or whatever, will have to be dealt with. I don’t know much about those things.

If I get this working and get good at long-distance shooting, I’ll be a very dangerous person to my enemies. They won’t be able to get near me if I see them coming.

Of course, they could still sneak in and kill me rather easily. Hmm. Dang.

Also, I don’t have any enemies. None who are that serious, anyway. The only people who really hate me are more likely to pee on my car than try to murder me. Perhaps that will change when anti-Christian persecution gets heavy, but by that time, I’ll probably be ready to go. “Beheading? Sure. Let me sharpen your sword for you.”

The squirrels want me dead, but they’re not organized. And they’re easy to buy off with peanuts and sunflower seeds. They have no souls.

I have good daytime optics for the .204, but I am severely tempted to go ahead and get night vision. I’m looking into it. The scopes I am willing to spring for are not good enough for real distance, but then I suppose it would be weird to shoot at long range at night. Wouldn’t you think 100 yards would be more than adequate? Just guessing.

I better go outside and see if I can pop off a few rounds before I lose my new magazine. Thanks for listening.