Living alone isn’t for everyone. Some people are scared of their own shadow. One person I knew had so many outside lights screaming into the night sky, the house was never in true darkness. While neighbors silently complained, these lights were left on day and night. The house glows at night. Of course, Winterpast is in the desert. It DOES get VERY dark here at night. Bad things CAN happen in the dark. But, bad people have also discovered they can do their evil in broad daylight, too.
Here at Winterpast, the outside lights are rarely on at any time. I detest light pollution. Trying to do my part to enhance the night sky, when I’m safely tucked inside, there’s no need to light up my surroundings outside. Beside, if I do hear something, I hope the someONE creating the someTHING I hear trips and falls over the rocks, boulders and other obstacles outside. Why give them a clear path to my home?
Asking for protection from angels before I slept every night, being scared of the dark isn’t in my nature. I was raised on a farm. There were no street lights to help joggers find their way home. No one jogged because we are all too tired from the day of farming. No one ran down the street in the dark because every house had a few loose ranch dogs that worked the night shift. If you DID hear someTHING in the night, it was someTHING that needed investigation with a shotgun. That explained the situation in which I grew up. I have a healthy respect and love for guns.
Times are changing, and I decided that protection might be a good idea. A can of wasp spray by the bedside is a great idea. The stream of toxic goo can shoot a long way. Wouldn’t want that in your eyes. There’s the secreted big rig tire thumper VST and I bought in Wyoming. That would bring on a headache for a little while. The skull crusher is positioned in another “quick-grab” spot, ready if I need it. The name explains that manual device perfectly.
Living on the high desert a girl can’t be too careful. Nevada is an open carry state. That doesn’t refer to a open can of beer in the truck. It refers to wearing a gun strapped in plain sight on your body. At my age, that would be an open invitation to a mugging. Not being strong enough to keep it away from an attacker, I realize I’m too old to do that. But, I’m not too old to have gun properly stowed right next to my bed. It’s for that reason I purchased a pink and black Saturday Night Special (similar in appearance only to the picture above).
Without research, I chose this gun because it fit perfectly in my freakishly big but weak Germanic hands. Basically made of plastic, this gun felt fantastic at the gun store. A perfect fit. Love at first sight. No, the color wasn’t the reason I liked it. A gun is a tool used for protection. In my opinion, guns shouldn’t come in pink. It was the weight and balance in my hand that sealed the deal.
It’s been a long time since I shot anything. I never liked going to the range with VST, as he was an expert at shooting, like everything else. A target would go up. His gun held five bullets. He’d shoot five times. The bullseye would be eliminated by his shots, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the target. Then, it’d be time to go home. Every single time was the same. Buying the best gun is half the battle and VST shot with high end equipment.
Ace is also a precise shooter. There is a difference. His precision skills kept him alive during two wars. With that being said, the equipment I purchased for myself is low end. How is it that for everyone else, I bought the best money could by. For my own arsenal, I bought low end products. Yesterday, I discovered the error in my way.
Ace offered to take me to the range for gun safety and shooting. Off we went into the bright blue sky with a scary black long gun, two black pistols, and my cheery pink gun. The range is a marvelous place. With a range master watching over everyone, lots of people were practicing.
Proper preparation is needed when you go to an outdoor gun range. First, you better have a reason to be there. Don’t just drop into watch, because everyone is very aware of who’s there and what they’re shooting. There are very specific rules. You need to have ear and eye protection. You need to listen to the range master to know when the range is hot or cold. You also need to be on high alert for idiot nimrods that don’t know the rules. They can be a danger to everyone.
We chose to shoot in a private lane for my first lesson. Ace was patient and kind. We loaded my new pink gun, while he was worried about this pink nightmare. The Saturday Night Special was quite possibly the cheapest gun he’d ever shot, and I know he was praying it didn’t blow up in my hand. Confidence in my weapon of choice was evaporating in the morning sun.
After 50 rounds, we both agreed I need to trade up to a quality pistol. That being said, I hit the target and still know the gun is the perfect weight and size for me. I could hit the target. Aim and shoot. Hit center mass. That’s all you need to hit. Accomplished.
It would be a mistake for someone to break down a window or door and enter Winterpast with evil intent. Oliver and I are ready. Not scared. PREPARED. Preparation empowers even the oldest of widows.
Scared of the dark? Negative.
Scared of intruders? Isn’t everyone?
Prepared for the worst? You betcha. All part of living in the high desert of Northwestern Nevada in a little house named Winterpast.
More tomorrow.