This morning I overcame my own inertial forces by dipping over to the local Sheriff’s range. A matter of classical Newtonian mechanics and all that. Took a trusty 1860, a Browning .22 semi auto and a big thermos of coffee. I was the only one there. After a couple of hours, three young guys showed up with black rifles. They were polite and cordial safe shooters and set up for 200 yards. They shot good. I overheard them discussing whether Texas might admit California residents into their National Guard for a little border duty and thought yeah, good, these guys know the thing. Don’t you wish everyone did?
The 1860 that I brought was a Pietta from 1997, bought new that year. It’s the mod with scoop flutes. Twenty-seven years of steady shooting. It performed flawlessly. It and the Browning are
clean again, now. The thermos is empty. As ever, I had me a ball.