Free-Range Junk
We’re All Hoarders At Heart
Have you ever stopped to consider the concept of the range bag? Of course you haven’t, because you’re not a magazine editor facing an imminent deadline for 1,300 compelling words to fill up your monthly end-of-issue column. However, regardless of who you are, if you’re looking for a strange but wonderful universal truth among all shooters, the range bag certainly ranks highly.
The humble range bag is pretty innocuous in the grand scheme of things, at least until you consider your own experiences building, stocking and carrying — then re-building and re-carrying, re-stocking, re-re-building, re-re-carrying and repeating ad nauseum with your personal bag. Nearly every shooter has some type of carry-all for their gear and we’ve all done the reasonable, mostly reasonable, unbelievably silly and sometimes utterly insane things with said caddie.
Beginnings
When you first start shooting, regardless of discipline, you quickly realize the people you want to emulate, the erstwhile “pros,” have a well-stocked range bag sitting nearby. Whether your personal hero’s kit is full of shotgun shells, lots of spare rifle magazines or a tray full of speed loaders, you’re instantly intrigued at what is essentially the male equivalent of a woman’s purse. You want one of your own, badly, and you immediately start down the long, winding road to perdition, um, range bag Nirvana.
This comparison to a woman’s handbag is apt. I’m pretty sure if my wife and I were having a quiet lunch near a military base and someone suddenly screamed, “Does anyone have a NMEA-MKII MOD 2 nuclear core removal tool!?!” she’d heave the famous sigh — which I’ve decoded to mean “all men are hopelessly stupid” — rummage through her handbag and calmly ask, “Do you want metric or SAE?”
Any woman, especially those who are moms, carry everything in their purse you could possibly need during the course of a day regardless if the problem is modest hunger pangs or an urgent need to perform emergency liver surgery. The range bag fills those same requirements for shooters.
The typical range bag starts out simple — spare ammo, magazines or loaders, a few tools, maybe a small bottle of oil along with hearing and eye protection. For the OCD members of the group there might be a notepad and pen, a few target pasters, a staple gun and ammo, maybe some duct tape and a few other odds and ends.
This is pretty much the standard load-out for an “average” range bag. However, as time goes on, things are added in the “just in case” and “this would be really handy” categories. From there, the sky is literally the limit, which is why you shouldn’t be surprised to eventually find yourself carrying a blowtorch or military cargo parachute.
Of course, you’re obliged to try out every possible bag and container under the sun, changing things out more often than Megan “We just want to live a quiet life” Markle sends out press releases. Your current bag is neigh-on perfect — at least until you realize there is a better, bigger, more “perfect” bag down at the gun store or an online retailer. “Cha-Ching” says the cash register.
This continues for decades. This weird problem also affects guns, holsters, binoculars, reloading presses or even fishing rods and boats — what is perfect today suddenly becomes the most regretfully imperfect piece of gear you’ve ever purchased just a few hours later. Chagrined and wildly repulsed by what seems to be your criminally stupid choice of gear, you quickly move on to your next bag or box until it too falls victim to this strange spell and gets added to the ever-growing pile in the garage.
This is why your dusty stockpile of abandoned gear undoubtedly contains various iterations of small, medium and large range bags, along with various-sized range boxes, a couple of range tackle boxes, countless range ammo cans, one or two range rolling bags and several range backpacks. For those who are hopelessly addicted to shooting, there are even range pickup trucks or range trailers. GUNS writer Mike Venturino actually has a dedicated range building after recognizing a 52-foot Wabash National semi trailer wasn’t big enough for all his shooting junk. Until I meet someone who owns a dedicated range container ship, Mike is the current winner of the range bag war.
Mobile Junkyard
Our range bags constantly change and morph, which is understandable, but perhaps the strangest and most comical aspect is all the junk that ends up living within. Who hasn’t pulled out a half-empty tube of window caulk or a broken doorknob from the bag and wondered, “Why the heck did I put that in there?”
There was undoubtedly a rational explanation, or you were legally insane at the time. How else can we explain things like leaking D-cell batteries, aquarium tubing and packets of Jell-O-brand dessert (all actual finds in my own bag). Perhaps there was a reasonable reason for such items at the time, but the explanation is lost to history. This, or perhaps Range Gremlins actually exist.
The range bag is also where old, orphaned or unwanted cleaning supplies go to die. If you’ve ever handed me a sample of gun oil, a single-use packet of the latest miracle CLP or some bizzarro gun maintenance utensil — “this new apparatus will magically simplify the cleaning and restoration of the Antilock modulator on the 105mm Howitzer” — they’ve all ended festering in the bottom of my bag. There, they join the almost-empty bottles of solvent and worn-out cleaning jags I simply couldn’t bear to throw away.
In the span of 50 years, I’ve used very little of this stuff. Occasionally I’ll expend one precious drop of oil from a sample tube but all the other junk just sits there, aging, decomposing and generally becoming unusable and likely more toxic. Maybe this explains my male-pattern baldness.
Spring Cleaning
Whether it needs it or not, I try to disembowel my range bag at least once per decade. Besides the curious collection of tackle sitting on the bench, there is a huge pile of dried-up or leaking packages of cleaning supplies, an inextricably large mound of unused-but-dirty cleaning patches, slowly-rusting gun parts and other unidentified accoutrements, all of which unceremoniously ends up in the trash can.
Sometimes you find real surprises — I once discovered a long-deceased rodent while rooting around for spare eye protection. My startled response caused three negligent discharges and a stern warning from the range safety officer.
The mouse had apparently taken up residence during the previous winter and made the mistake of dining on one of the miracle cleaning-goop packets. By the time I found him after spring thaw, the late lamented mouse had been reduced to a handful of fluff, a skeletal tail and mostly-crushed skull. At least the mummified tail proved useful for cleaning out firing pin holes.
Tool Time
Speaking of tools, my own bag has grown to the point I’m not only capable of re-barreling a 1908 Springfield on the firing line but can also perform a passable valve job on a small-block Chevy. Of course, moving the bag from truck to firing line requires a forklift, but I carry extra propane fuel cylinders so it’s not a problem.
My own bag contains the usual screwdrivers, wrenches (torque and regular), cordless drill, measuring tape, knife, punches, files, vernier caliper, utility knife, portable vise, pliers, along with a hammer (for repairing target stands), a bore scope and, I think, a few drywall tools. This doesn’t include all the serious gear stored in the back of my truck. If someone ever requires a chain hoist on the firing line, we’re set.
I venture if you’ve been shooting more than six months, you can relate and even add a few more sea stories. However, if you’re a novice, I hope this article gives you an idea of how to achieve the proper level of crazed over-preparedness necessary to give bystanders the impression you’re a salty old gun hand.
Most of the mentioned gear can be acquired from reputable shooting supply stores. You’ll have to come up with your own dead mice.
