CCW Story Part 12: A Liberal With His Finger On The Trigger

I looked downrange to gauge the ability of the other shooters. The young man in lane one had produced a respectable pattern with his Springfield XD, not as good as my wife's but he had kept a tight group. The Biker's target looked like he had thrown a handful of M&Ms at it in a fit of blind rage. The Glock twins were even worse, with a random sprinkling of holes, in each target as if they had placed their targets out in short, violent acid rain. The handicapped man was still slowly taking halfhearted potshots downrange. Next to my wife, the Gun Waving Baptist's target was better than the Bikers. He looked at his target, with it's basketball sized spread and then at the nickel sized hole my wife had shot in her target.

"Man”! He mouthed, through the earplugs, "She is good"!

I nodded at him and looked next to him at the Crazy Lady's target, which was worse than the Glock Twins. Last in line was the Geezer, who was on par with the Crazy Lady. My turn was next, my wife handed me the loaded Kahr. I slowly fired 12 rounds at the center of the target only 3 yards away, stopping to swap magazines half way through. I remembered Bruce's instruction, keeping space between my trigger finger and the receiver. I concentrated on my breathing, my sight picture, on keeping my finger off of the trigger until ready to fire. I, the reluctant liberal who had never owned a handgun, somehow managed to fire the smallest group of any of my concealed carry classmates. It was a tighter group than the frequent shooters and the NRA sympathizing concealed carry permit seekers had managed. Most importantly, I had shot a better group than my wife’s. I could tell she was pissed at me. I giggled. Suddenly the exercise seemed comical. I was better than them at their own game, and didn’t even want to be. I backed away from the firing line, leaving the Kahr with magazines removed and slide locked back pointing downrange as Bruce had taught us. Next, Bruce had us move our targets to 7 yards. My wife once again shot dead center and with a single outlier, kept all her shots in a two-inch circle.