I mentioned that as a part of our summer vacation, Jo-Anne was taking a gun course. I mentioned it because we caught her studying her course material at the Abbotsford Airshow instead of watching the jets. She’s a goodie-goodie-two-shoes.
Last night was the federally mandated exam night. Two written exams and two practical exams—one for each of “Non-Restricted” firearms (those are rifles and shotguns); and “Restricted” firearms (handguns).
Jo-Anne got 100% on one written exam, and 98% on the other, then scored bigger on the practical exams—100% on each. BANG!
I got the exact same scores, except on the practical exam for Restricted weapons, at the very end of the nerve-wracking test, I’d accidentally aimed the semi-automatic Beretta handgun (almost exactly like the one at right) that I was told “PROVE” (that’s the regimented procedure to ensure the gun is unloaded and safe after firing my rounds)… toward my left foot (kinda symbolic I would say!). I was checking that the cartridge magazine was out of the Beretta’s grip but that was a completely useless move, as the magazine drops out of the grip when you hit the release with your thumb, and you don’t need to turn it downward to check that it did. DUMB. There’s nothing particularly wrong with pointing a gun downward, but the test rule is that it can’t deviate from 90 degrees of the stated downrange firing line. They’re very picky. In that case, redoing the Restricted practical test is mandatory.
Anyway, at that, Jo-Anne is going out for lunch to the local pub with her galpals today to celebrate that she’s cooler than me.
I’ll be back to blogging next week. I may be grumpy.
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