Some friends you can go months without seeing and hearing from - then on a whim you drop down the range table and sit with them a spell. My two Steyr’s buddies are like that, a hunting 5 SA and a Pro X 10 SA. The conversation starts simple with weather, wind and rain and choices we've made. Seems like we always address our health issues created by the stress of sitting for so long; but once all that nonsense is out of the way, we start drinking lead from a .22 tin mug. We always start with a big ol fib, a tall tail, like a monster big splatter target pasted to some corrugated board; we know we can't miss, no matter how many time we tell the story it's a good reminder of where we left off. I don’t always trust ol eyes or fingers that itch to remember where the sweet spot is in life, especially through a small window. Once we’ve established we can still see and refrain from jerking around too much, we move on to progressively demanding types of conversations like pill bottles, beer caps and match heads. At some point we pull out the playing cards just to see if we still know what an Ace looks like. At times there is awkward silence after some off target comment, like a flyer coming out of left field - WTH. In the end, when all topics have been completely hit upon and we've pushed the issues of civility farther than we should have, we begin the customary faretheewells and clean up the air gunner crumbs. Always a pleasure to give ol friends a good rubbing, especially if they can stay on topic and i remember not to go against their grain too much. Now remind me, what was it we were talking about?
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