Cannonballs, rifles, and Leupold scopes…

Well, it’s a year and a few days away…and I’m thinking about it…

The real Cannonball…my buddy Alan over at MSILSF must have a mind that goes 24/7!  What a cool idea!   And hey, I couldn’t resist…I had this photo in my collection from an April 2007 visit to Sandy Hook’s Fort Hancock…take a look a one of the shore battery defensive cannons and a couple of, well, real cannonballs!

Arlene’s already entered in the Cannonball…it most definitely would be a great ride…and we would get to see the US from the ground…

Speaking of which, one of my good buddies was actually my next door neighbor back when I was a kid…literally from Day One for me.   Paul is a couple of years older than me, so he was there when the folks brought me home when I was born, and we still talk regularly via e-mail.   Talk about a life-long friendship!  So anyway, Paul sent me one of those cool emails that make the rounds (we’re both gun nuts), and it kind of ties in to the Cannonball because it talks about different parts of the country.  Here’s the note I received from Paul, with a few comments from me…

On the news this week was a story about a southern California man put under 72-hour psychiatric observation when it was found he owned 100 guns and allegedly had (by rough estimate) 1-million rounds of ammunition stored in his home. The house also featured a secret escape tunnel. 

My favorite quote from the dimwit television reporter: “Wow!  He has about a million machine gun bullets.” The headline referred to it as a “massive weapons cache.”  (Note from me:  “dimwit television reporter” is a bit redundant, don’t you think?)

By southern California standards someone even owning 100,000 rounds would be called “mentally unstable.” 

Just imagine if he lived elsewhere: 

• In Arizona he’d be called “an avid gun collector.”
• In Arkansas , he’d be called “a novice gun collector.”
• In Utah , he’d be called “moderately well prepared,” but they’d probably reserve judgment until they made sure that he had a corresponding quantity of stored food.
• In Montana , he’d be called “The neighborhood ‘Go-To’ guy.”
• In Idaho , he’d be called “a likely gubernatorial candidate.”
• In Wyoming , he’d be called “an eligible bachelor.”
• And, in Texas , he’d be called, “my huntin’ buddy.”   (Note from me again…I used to live in Texas…and I had more than a few huntin’ buddies just like this guy.)

Good stuff, and good for a laugh with my morning cup of coffee.  Keep ’em coming, Paul.

And speaking of firearms…another cool story.   I bought a rifle through one of the Internet gun auction sites a few months ago, and when it arrived, I had to wait 10 days to take ownership (that’s the People’s Republik of Kalifornia’s mandatory 10-day waiting period…I sure miss living in Texas).  After waiting my 10 days, I took possession and I was disappointed.  The Leupold scope had a cracked lens and there were a few other things wrong with the rifle.

I called the guy from whom I had purchased the rifle, and he claimed it must have happened during shipment.   Right.  Sure.  You know how that goes.  Anyway, I don’t get too upset about these kinds of things at my age, and I wanted the rifle.  So I sent an email to Leupold’s service department asking what it would cost to get the scope repaired.  They gave me an estimate of $60 to fix the thing (which seemed pretty reasonable), and off it went for repairs.  Leupold is the Rolls Royce of rifle scopes, and to me it was worth a relatively inexpensive repair.  Shoot, that’s less than what it costs to fill my car’s gas tank.

The bottom line to this story?   The scope arrived in the mail yesterday, in literally better than new condition.   The repair charge?  $0.00.   You can bet I’ll never buy any scope other than a Leupold.  Nicely done, guys, and thanks very much!