Catharsis Via Air Rifle Part III
By kowalski Posted in Culture — Comments (0) / Email this page » / Leave a comment »
In December of 2006 after the midterm elections handed power back to the Democrats and resulted in a Royal Flush of anti-gun Democrats being elected to important positions in Congress, I decided that after more than 15 years on the sidelines it was time to “put my money where my mouth was” on gun ownership. The best way to begin that process was by purchasing a high-powered air rifle to resuscitate my wheezy marksmanship skills, and here’s the third installment of the story.
I’d like to begin by saying that initially buying a pellet rifle is a smart move for anyone who wants to safely learn how to handle a gun. In most places in the country, buying one doesn’t require a license of any kind, as long as you’re an adult. Learning the safe way to handle and shoot it properly is simpler, because you can do it in your backyard (or even in your basement) without worrying about either waking up the neighbor or accidentally blowing a hole in your fence and taking out her lawn ornaments (or her). If you buy a high-quality example, all of your skills will transfer when you decide to purchase the real thing. Finally, you will learn the basics of marksmanship at low cost (pellets are cheap compared to cartridges) -- and they’re a lot of fun. Think of it as Riflery 101. You remember how much fun you had as a freshman in college, don’t you? This is just like that. Well, OK, minus the beer and...bear with me!
I left things hanging at the point where I had just attached the scope (link: here’s the gun) and shouldered it a few times before realizing that I’d forgotten to buy ammunition. While it is true that a Model 52 is a very well-made and capable air gun with a lifetime warranty, nobody has ever been able to shoot one without taking that crucial step. In fact, the manual specifically warns you not to “dry fire” the gun, lest you do what I did while you're itching to test it. This is because firing a high-powered air rifle without a pellet in the chamber is akin to triggering a catapult with nothing for it to hurl. There is no load to move, but the machine is designed to work against a load. The act of propelling the pellet out of the gun actually “cushions” the piston assembly at the end of its journey. Otherwise, the piston will slam violently against its stop, damage its seal and overstress the whole mechanism. So don’t do that. ;)
[Author’s Note: There’s an interesting sidebar somewhere in there concerning the kinematics of an air rifle from a rigorous physics standpoint. I’m buying a chronometer and I’ll write that later on, but it would obviously be to the designer’s advantage to have the piston just come to rest after it transferred all of the spring’s energy to the pellet, but it can’t be done in the real world.]
So with that introduction, it’s clear that I needed to take a ride and buy some ammo. I wanted to buy it from someone who could use the business and also who knew what they were talking about. I also wanted to get some advice about local ordinances and how best to go about acquiring a Massachusetts FID and LTC. Fortunately, just three blocks away from the elementary school in the next town over from mine is one of the best-equipped gun shops in the Northeast. Nick’s Sport Shop is on the same block as the local CVS pharmacy, just behind the local Subway and other merchants, and is just a stone’s throw away from the town's Bank of America branch. The premises are a preserved turn-of-the-century brick firehouse, the exterior beautifully restored and tastefully decorated.
It had been more than a decade since I visited a sport shop (Nick’s sells much more than guns) and like any experience that you revisit after such a long time, you approach it in a difficult-to-describe state of “experienced innocence.” Or perhaps it is better to say that you carry with you a lot of memories that have faded or shifted, overlapped with and subtly altered by your later experiences. Frankly, I had forgotten what to expect or what to remember, but I brought the RWS along for the ride in the trunk. I needed a few other accessories for it, and remembered that it’s nice to have the gun with you while you’re picking them out.
And this is where the real reminiscence and learning experience began.
Walking into Nick’s with the RWS, the first thing I noticed was the aroma of the place – a combination of gun oil, black powder, new merchandise, leather, and Windex. It is true that scent is perhaps our most powerfully evocative sense, because just breathing the air instantly took me back more than 15 years, to the Ready Room of my high school rifle team’s range in New Jersey. There were two other customers already in the store, along with Nick and his wife, and another woman who I can only surmise was related to one or the other.
Now remember, I’m walking into a gun shop for the first time in more than a decade, with what looks convincingly like an actual firearm at my side (muzzle down, hand away from the trigger, of course). Nobody flinches – and instead there’s a friendly, “Hi. Just wait a few minutes while I take care of Bill here and I’ll be right with you.” And so I smiled back and said, “Thanks a lot. I’m looking for some pellets for this RWS. Would you mind if I put it on the counter while I have a look around? It’s been a long time since I was in a gun store and I also want a few other things.”
Full stop. The rocket sled hits the water brake and the brain oozes out the nostrils. For more than a dozen years, I had been a Teenage Moonbat after I left high school. During the years I spent in Chicago, I’d convinced myself to buy into almost every negative stereotype of gun owners, gun dealers, and gun aficianados that the collective wisdom of the anti-gun Left and the combined intellectual apparatus of DePaul University College of Law could throw at me. I had been a True Believer™, a loyal Gun Control acolyte/activist who would have made John Conyers whoop with joy and give Dianne Feinstein a reason to legislate. Yet here I was, standing in the middle of the store, placing my air rifle on the countertop to have a look around. So it was very surprising that as I turned away from the counter I almost ran into...
The cute-as-a-button little girl on the Barbie tricycle riding down the aisle toward me, to get to the TV that was at the front of the shop so she could watch Sesame Street. I kid you NOT. She smiled at me as I stepped over her to have a look at the slings. At this point, I knew I was in the Twilight Zone, and my cognitive tectonic plates were shifting rapidly, in a good direction.
I’ll make a long story short at this point, because I’m saving the fully-developed version of it for my book. After about 20 minutes walking around at Nick’s, perusing all of their merchandise (hint: if you can shoot with it, fish with it, climb with it, hunt with it or generally enjoy yourself with it in the Great Outdoors, he’s got it, or can get it) I had a great conversation with the man about bullet weights and cleaning techniques and licensing requirements. It turns out, not surprisingly to me (at least after I remembered who I was) that the owner of Nick’s is a very bright and gregarious fellow with a great sense of humor and an absolutely razor-sharp mind, who would give most college professors I’ve met a run for their money. He’d look just as good in a cardigan or a turtleneck as he would in mossy oak breakup camo, in other words. His little girl is a joyous jewel and his wife can crack a heck of a joke, also. What nice people! What was I thinking for all of those years?
I realized as I left the shop how badly my years as a leftist/progressive had skewed and debased my perceptions and attitudes about people who own guns, and I was ashamed of myself for letting it happen. However, all was not lost: I made a couple of new friends at Nick’s and I intend to put those times behind me comprehensively in the spring. I also came to appreciate the power of suggestion and just how impressionable all of us can be when it comes to emotionally-charged issues like firearm ownership. If anything, the people who legally own firearms and understand them well in America are not the “bad guys” – rather, it’s the ones who wish to cast aspersions on them and restrict their liberty for dubious and manufactured reasons.
Epilogue: as you can tell from my review at Cabela’s, the pellets I bought at Nick's worked perfectly, along with the other accessories I bought for the RWS. And shooting it is really a lot of fun.