The only reason I am posting this and putting myself out to be snickered at is because the story ends well. If not, no way. Well maybe. It certainly has taught me a lesson. I think.
On Sunday at the match in Sacramento, Charles and I were the first relay and we finished the day at the 1000 yard line. There was still another string to come back and finish shooting. I grabbed all of my gear except my rifle to put back in car. Planning on coming back for it of course. Too much in one load. The car was parked about 25 yards away. Charles was at car also loading in his gear and we got to talking and he asked if I would walk Kozmo back to the club house and we would have a b-bque waiting for us back there. So off I go walking Kozmo down the hill.
The second string behind us finishes and all shooters are now at club house having lunch. We have awards ceremony and we quickly said our good-byes and jumped in the car and hit the road for home. 6 hours later we arrive in Ashland, OR and check in to a motel. As always we take in most valuable items, luggage, scopes and rifles. Rifles. Rifle? “Where is my rifle” I ask Charles. “You don’t have it in your hands?” He says? “No” I said. Panic. Did we stop somewhere and leave truck unlocked? Where oh where is my rifle???? My mind is reeling and trying to retrace steps. Then it hits me. 1000 yard line on shooting bench. Holy Crap. That’s not really what I said but this may be a family blog.
Panic phone calls to Jim the match director. I knew he and others were still staying this next week because of the Zinsmaster match coming up. But how to reach them. Reception at range is iffy. Jim’s phone was not answering. I emailed him that night also but could not reach anyone. I did not sleep. I was sick to my stomach. Charles knew I was beating myself up. He told me it would be there and they would find it. Next morning still no contacts. I finally called the range office of Folsom shooting club. I asked manager if he could drive up to the rifle range and find Jim and have him call me. Manager says, “May I ask what it is you left behind?” “Ummmm..my rifle?” “Oh my! I will run up there right now!” A few minutes later another shooter Randy Pike called me back. He ran up to 1000 yard line and found my rifle still on bench. Thank goodness! And thank goodness it was a covered line. It rained all night long. My rifle was recovered! He laughed (at me, not with me) and said he will hold it for me and hand it to a Washington shooter coming for this week’s Zinsmaster match. He will be bringing it back to me in about 10 days. I am the talk of the town down there right now. How humiliating and embarrassing. But what would this blog be if it were only glorious stories? Kind of boring. Well, there. I livened it up for you. The End.
“Shoot Like A Girl! If You Can……”