False Pretenses

I’ve been the Lord High Protector of the GUNS realm for a couple of years now and it’s finally time to fess up to both regular readers of this corner — I’m a fraud. Let me explain.

First off, I’m not talking about my writing credentials, though some might argue the point.

In specialized “affinity” media such as gun magazines there are generally two types of writers. The first are those who are literal subject-matter experts with deep, deep expertise who can also string words together in a mostly coherent fashion. The second type are those who might be a little more proficient with the written word but perhaps don’t have the depth of experience as an “expert.” I definitely consider myself more of the second ilk, though our magazine is certainly blessed with an abundance of writers who are world-class both on the firing line and at the keyboard.

Resumé

In my case, I consider myself a generalist. I’ve shot just about every kind of gun in a variety of situations, had a wide array of both training and real-world experiences but in most shooting-related things, I would only consider myself fair-to-middlin’ in terms of knowledge. Fortunately, what I lack in court-recognized shooting expertise is made up with a bit of literary skill, coupled with an active imagination and a complete, world-class gift of what is nicely referred to as “bovine excrement.”

I’ve made no secret about the fact on the outside I’m a late 50s male but the inside controls are actually being operated by an eight-year-old child. I’m full of what favorite writer Patrick F. McManus called “wild and terrible enthusiasms” and as such, I have tried perhaps every shooting endeavor known to man and even a few I might have invented, such as the ill-advised attempt to reload your own CO2 cartridges.

Fortunately, I’m a quick healer.

Part of the problem is the fact I’m never happy with the toys and tasks at hand. When I’m tinkering with the innards of a gun, my inner child — I call him “Skippy” — wants to be doing something else like bug collecting or fishing. Not just fishing, but trotline fishing using bar soap as bait, at least since I read this little nugget of information 40 years ago in some forgotten outdoor magazine. Then, Skippy wants to go camping, and sign up for a BPRC competition then whittle something using my new knife, then rebuild the Coleman lantern and on and on and on, until he finally wants to get back to tampering with the original gun. In this way, I have lots of fun but it’s not really conducive to gaining years of experience in one or two particular subjects.

I might be the epitome of the proverbial “Jack-of-all-trades but master of none.”

So, I’ve got a pretty wide though not necessarily deep background with guns. I’ve blown stuff up with the Navy SEALS, pointed guns at a number of people during my cop shop career — mostly intentionally — and spent lots of time in gun stores, deer stands and duck blinds during a lifetime quest to generally try everything at least once, including some basic gunsmithing. Fortunately, I’m a quick healer.

Why

Until the last 10 or 15 years, most of my shooting experience was either career-related as a cop or in the hunting field.

As anyone with law enforcement experience knows, handloading is strongly frowned upon for duty ammunition. If you happen to shoot someone with ammunition you or a friend loaded, you’re in for a world of trouble starting with departmental rule violations, moving onto state and federal lawsuits and then maybe even a quick trip to criminal prosecution. As a cop, factory ammo is the only allowable game in town for professional use so we confined ourselves to using the shiny stuff from Anoka and East Alton.

Likewise, our practice budget wasn’t unlimited but I was blessed to have all the ammo we reasonably wanted to shoot.

Thus, here we are — I had no real practical need to learn reloading. And, frankly, as a young cop full of the aforementioned enthusiasms, I also had a family, mortgage, multiple hunting dogs, a couple of boats and a trailer camper so I also couldn’t really afford another addiction.

On the hunting side, up until the last decade, our state only allowed shotguns for deer hunting so everything from birds to big-game was done with a scattergun. As rifled-slug loading is one of the more arcane of the reloading arts, there were few practicing it and I didn’t happen to know any of them. Coupled with the fact most shots at any game in my area are likely to be under 100 yards in extremis, there really wasn’t any major reason to launch into such an all-consuming hobby as reloading.

So there, I’ve admitted it. I feel horribly ashamed and even tore off a corner of my Man Card as penance for this major shortcoming of my shooting character. However, I am trying to make amends.

It’s Time

After sidestepping scores of reader questions about reloading, I finally decided it was time to jump into the deep end of handloading with both feet. So far I’ve been in contact with all of our real resident experts, picking their brains bare and working with our industry partners to obtain the necessary supplies and equipment.

Having started down this long and ultimately rewarding road, I suddenly realized — as always — my timing couldn’t have been worse. We’re in the middle of the most explosive growth of the reloading hobby ever experienced and while ammunition is scarce, handloading supplies are 10 times so. I even had to resort to a time-worn tradition — shameless begging — to score a pound of powder.

Our corporate friends eventually took pity on the wretched editor and came through with a few things to get me started, thus my first working set-up was a Lee Loader. For the unaware, this is a nifty little self-contained kit to reload one specific cartridge without using a press and offers a great way to get started in the hobby. I’ve immensely enjoyed building .270 ammo with the kit, though I’m still a little leery of pounding home — gently — the primers with a mallet. Fortunately, the kit is time-tested, safe and I’m a fast healer.

As with any hobby I attempt, I quickly went from “rank amateur” to “rank amateur with credit card burning a hole in his pocket.” Within hours of building my first cartridges, I made plans to own a dozen motorized progressive presses, cast my own bullets and build a world-class library of literature augmented by the latest computer programs to keep it all organized. I planned to check all my cartridges for concentricity and, if necessary, shave the bullet one-thousandth of an inch at a time on a CNC machine for utmost, pinpoint accuracy. In no time at all, I would be an expert and part of this great fraternity.

But Wait …

It must be true God looks out for children, fools and drunks — and editors. Of course, editors tend to encompass all these categories, but regardless, a higher power was looking out for me and my credit rating because none of the equipment or supplies I desired, nay coveted, were available. I feverishly scanned catalogs and websites, constantly dismayed at the “Backordered — unavailable” flashing whenever I tried to purchase some gimcrack or doo-dad I didn’t really need and had no idea how to use.

Meanwhile, today, I continue pounding away — and wincing periodically as a primer is seated — with my faithful Lee Loader.
So, there you have it. I’m not the man some might have thought, but I believe it will turn out okay. Eventually I’ll be like the rest of you, hip-deep in melting wheel weights and occasionally finding errant grains of H4831 floating in my morning oatmeal. The oatmeal might prove a little bitter and crunchy, but on that day, I’ll finally be a “real” shooter!

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