Pop, Pop...

            Traffic on the floor this morning is looking positive. As many of you know, I work in an industry where discretionary income is the driving force. I’ve worried about what the national economic problems will do to my source of income. The cold, wet, nasty winter days eventually give way to the bright, somewhat warmer days of spring. Since the beginning of February, we’ve had several warm days with temperatures in the sixties. With these warm days come customers swarming the shop because they are ready to ride again.  I get tired of the slow days of inventory and “finding” things for my crew to do in the winter, and I always welcome the change that brings customers through the door. This translates directly to a positive impact on my income, and in this situation, the more the merrier.

            Locally speaking, the economic impact has not really been seen yet in my line of work. I am still seeing customers come in to spend their hard-earned dollars on everything from tires to windshields. Tax time is always a nice boost to our business and this year has proven no different so far. I can only hope it stays this way.

  Sitting on the couch last night, breaking open the new boxes of Girl Scout cookies, the wife chimes in.

"Baby, why do you do this? Why are you bringing things like this home?", as she bites into the new Dulce de Leche.

 I'm not as impressed with it as she, and I finish chewing one as she asks for another. I crack open the box of Tagalongs.

"That is the one", I said, as I chomped down into the chocolaty peanut butter goodness.

"Give me one".

 "Oh, these are mine", I retort. "Why do you gripe about me bringing them home in one breath, and ask why you can't have any in the next?"

 "Baby, come on", she replies.

 "I'm hiding these, and you can have the others", I say, obviously testing the waters.

 "Baby! That's not right. I'm your wife!"

 I reluctantly gave her another and then took the precious commodities into the other room for “safe keeping”. Hah.

 They really are ridiculous, and I’m an instant buyer when anything with chocolate and peanut butter is offered.

 Last weekend, I finally took the plunge and entered the local pistol shooting competition at the gun range. While I didn’t place last, I didn’t do as well as I expected or hoped. I was toward the bottom of the standings at the end, but it wasn’t the end of the world, and I’m officially hooked on pistol shooting again, even though I had to pick up my ego and throw it in the back of the truck on the way out.

  I go back and forth, with interest (and “me time” spent) bouncing from pistols to rifles and back again. Getting to shoot with good friends makes a difference, and it’s a ton of fun. Having most of the equipment I needed to get started also helps. The Glock 22 in 40 S&W is my tool of choice, and the Production (watch the cool video) class of USPSA is the game. It mixes real-life scenarios in with just plain fun. Targets are both paper silhouettes and steel plates, all shot while being timed. Rounds sent down range in any given stage can vary from 20 to 50 or more, depending upon one’s skill with a handgun and the amount of ammo one carries on hip. There are no limits to how much ammunition one can carry, but in Production class, magazines are limited to ten rounds each, and most competitors carry six magazines at the most. I’m sure next weekend will involve some more practice, because it was obvious I need it. I’m not a bad shot, but when the buzzer goes off on the timer, it changes the game more than you might think. Adrenaline and the pressure of being timed plays a part, and the quickest shooters with fastest times are usually at the top of the leader board at the end of the day because they learn to control what the body does naturally.