L went off with H yesterday to look at a used horse trailer (which will be something else for me to clean, but that’s another topic.) Coincidentally I was there when that date was made, so I said to D, “Hey, then we ought to go shooting.”
See, D has himself yet another onliest pistol, and this one is a peach. He kept getting himself these Colt replicas that never turned out to be much good, so he finally bit the bullet and bought a modern pistol – though still single action, of course, because D. But he’ll hardly ever tear himself away from his building projects long enough to shoot the damn things.
But this time we made a definite date. I’d have preferred to meet him out at the wash where I maintain Ian’s clangers…
But to everybody except me “Let’s go shooting” means a trip to Darrel the Former Cop’s fancy target range.
I’ve known DtFC for going on eight years now, and the best I can say about our relationship is that I’m not sure how much I dislike him. That’s a huge improvement: Though neither of us acknowledge it now, we once came within one false move of shooting each other. (Granted that it was kinda my dog’s fault. And I’ll give DtFC full marks for being probably the only cop in the 21st century to be bitten by a [big!] dog and not shoot that dog. Of course he’d have been killed, but still. Credit goes to him.)
He has lightened up quite a lot since he took off the uniform, and of course that massive heart attack may have had something to do with it. He hasn’t mellowed all that much though: When D and I met up with him he was still raging over having had to chase some picnickers off his property. (Yes, according to him they had actually spread a picnic.) He was in the process of building newer and more elaborate No Trespassing signs. There’s a spot where the wash crosses his land he calls a spring – I call it a seep, it’s nothing but quicksand – and he seems to think it’s quite the tourist destination. I’m not sure it’s as big a deal as he’s making of it, but it’s nice to see him up and doing things after his heart attack.
Anyway, one of the things he has been doing is working on the knife sheath he promised me lo before the oceans formed. And what he has accomplished so far promises a really pretty piece of work.
When he asked me about tooling and such, I had said this was gonna be primary belt gear and I like mine ugly enough I’m not afraid to scratch it, y’know? But “artists gotta art,” as I think Donatello may have said. He went ahead and tooled it anyway, and I can’t say I’m sorry. He didn’t go nuts with it, just a border and a nice wolf’s paw in the center. It still needs to be formed and sewn and I don’t know when that’s going to happen but I have resolved to live long enough to wear it at least once because it’s shaping up to look really nice. It’s made to be worn tilted on the off-side.
I’ve carried this Gerber Hunter Freeman since sometime in ’09, I think. It’s my favorite EDC knife both because it’s just an all-around useful thing and because it doesn’t scream Jeremiah Johnson Wannabee. But it did come with the dorkiest sheath in the history of sharp pointy things and it kinda stuck out. With this nice sheath I’d be able to wear it to town without feeling like people are staring at it. I don’t really mind leaving the .44 home when it’s more appropriate to go IWB, but for some reason I kinda resent having to switch knives. It’d be nice to have the Gerber back.