Tuesday, August 25, 2009

State of the Union

Mrs. CTone went to the beach with the kiddees and left me all alone to attend classes in Northern Virginia for the last two weeks.

Ah, beautiful Fairfax county: the San Francisco of Virginia. The four and a half to five hours of driving time added to a nine hour day would be why I haven't been around. Virginia is known for incompetent and highly dangerous drivers, and it gets worse the further North you go. I pull into the driveway in the evenings and my hands are shaking from road raging madness and outright post traumatic stress.

I honestly felt safer driving through Ramadi.

On a happier note, last Sahrrdee [Appalachian Ebonics] I made my way to the coolest place in all of Virginia: Greentop Sporting Goods. Upon entry of this divine establishment, guests are treated to the enchanting emanation of Culprit worms, as well as the soothing burble of the baitfish livewells. I remember this transcendental embrace of my senses from when I was still in diapers. The smell of Culprit worms still sedates me. It reminds me of my youthful pond fishing days.

I love this place.

I first went to the firearms counter, nervously looking around before I slipped the clerk a twenty with a wink, and softly asked for large pistol primers. A young lad was he, and must have started working there recently cause' he looked at me curiously and pointed to the shelf in the back right next to all the other reloading components where primers had been lovingly stacked since waaaaay back before November of 2008. I walked back and found primers aplenty in every shape and size. Weird.

I got 2k large pistol and 500 CCI BR2 primers. Hells yes!

Next up I made my way to the factory ammunition shelf where .45 ACP in primo brands were available, but admittedly weren't in the amounts that are typical for a store of this magnitude. But lo and behold I saw two boxes of Federal Hydra-shok in .380 Auto; rare beasts these days. A wide eyed gentleman snatched them up so fast like he was saving me from the maw of a cobra. A few minutes later I found a treasure trove of about ten boxes of Hornady Critical Defense, again in .380 Auto, and I grabbed a box for a friend as I don't have a .380. But alas, they still didn't have .32 ACP which I haven't seen much of in awhile.

The powder locker was filled to the brim with affordable powders of every kind, and bullets were available in just about anything you would desire. I was in a good mood.

Yesterday I was in my local Ganderous Mountainous and spotted many boxes of Remington and Cor-Bon .32 ACP for a bizzilian dollars each, and I declined. I hate that store. A half a mile down the road, Dick's Sporting Goods had many 50 round boxes of CCI Blazer in .380 Auto for a reasonable $1,899 - I mean $18.99 - and even had plinking ammo in .45 ACP and 9 millimetah.

I think the ammo nightmare is about over my friends.

I did get some shooting in with the big bad .308, and boy was that interesting. I was tesing some new loads at a hundred yards, and it was as hot as the hinges of hell. Humid too. I was prone behind the gun shooting off Harris bi-pods and a sand sock, and I would wipe my sweat soaked face with a wife beater, and then wipe off the stock before quickly getting on the scope. Before I could break a shot in that seven seconds, I would loose my cheekweld from the slime and sweat would fill my eye. I didn't shoot too well with the 165 grain Sierra Game Kings.

Fortunately mother nature reared her childish head and cranked out a thunderstorm about ten minutes after the last shot of my first loads, just like she always does Every. Single. Time. Too bad for her her whorelike plans failed and I was able to successfully use the hatch of my Xterra to shield me from the onslaught long enough to shoot some three round groups with some 155 grain loads. I got a .333" group out of one of em', and I've got similar groups with this load before. Enough to know that it's not a fluke anyways.

I'll post a pic when I have a camera available. It's currently taking shots of my kids frolicking in the sea. Without me. One day I will get a vacation, and I'm sure my levels of bitterness will go down to normal levels.
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