...direct quote from this afternoon's three-day-weekend safety brief. Words to live by...? Kinda seems like a no-brainer to me.
Anyway, my crazy week of range time is over at long last. Some notes:
- I could really use some more range time and competent instruction. I'm pretty damn decent, but I could be a lot better and a lot faster.
- I absolutely loathe being told how to shoot by people who know less than me. Seriously, check the group size before you open your mouth about my technique. When I'm printing 1" controlled pairs, quickly, center mass at 25m, I think my recoil control is just fine, thank you.
- Sprinting 50m back and forth on a lane (in full kit) during a stress shoot while you wait for the guy in front of you to correct his never ending weapon malfunctions fucking sucks. Now with Iron Mikes mixed in, for added fun! My quads feel like they may explode at any time.
- A semi-broken M4 will still run as long as you oil the shit out of the bolt and bolt carrier. Yes, my weapon finally broke... think I jinxed it with that last post. My bolt carrier is falling apart and some of the replaceable parts are well past their service life. I'm quite sure it'll never actually get fixed.
- My body has learned to hydrate itself when I feed it cheap beer. Honestly, I can drink PBR/BL/KL and wake up more hydrated than I was the day before. Real beer (IPAs, stouts, etc), however, still require a chaser of water if I expect to be able to run without dry heaving the entire time.
That's about it for that. What else...
Did a little racing with a buddy in his moderately modded SRT-4 earlier tonight. We did several from a roll (35, 45, 50) and he was remarkably able to keep pace up to about 60 mph, at which point he'd have to shift while I still had 15 mph left in second gear. We knew the outcome before we began, but it was fun nonetheless and I was rather impressed with that thing's quickness.
Note to self: turn off traction control when attempting a 4k clutch drop launch. Amateur hour. Still won that one, though.
Jokingly raced two pretty attractive strippers in a red '08 convertible. I gave her half a length on the roll and maintained that until we backed off... not bad, considering the LS3 is rated to have 30ish more HP than my LS2 does. Hooray for bolt-ons. For the curious, how I know they were strippers: Nate and I were rolling with these girls, then I pulled off at a gas station while she went on her way. When we got back in the car, I voiced my opinion that they were quite obviously strippers just due to the car, the attitude, the neighborhood and the fact that it was 0100. Sure as hell, we get like 1/4 mile down the road, and low and behold said red 'Vette parked right next to the front door at [redacted] gentleman's club. Go me.
Well, it's long past my bedtime. I'm going to sleep until like noon tomorrow (today?) and attempt to wash and detail Vanessa - god knows she needs some TLC, the poor thing. Maybe another coat of wax is in order if I'm feeling especially motivated.
'Night
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