NO MORE A GUN VIRGIN

I have to make this confession. I have to do it now while I have the nerve to do it. It’s always hard to admit these things. I mean, I’m an American, I live in Colorado—it’s not like I haven’t seen this sort of thing on the streets, in my father’s bedroom closet behind his church suits, on television. I know that my friends have had experience in these things for much longer than I, yet I would just laugh along at their stories as if I knew the titillating thrill of which they spoke.

Well my days of pretending are over. I am now a man of experience—at one with the ways of the world. I know the secret passion that I had always longed for but was just too timid to take. I am no longer a gun virgin.

Oh, don’t think that I haven’t dabbled. I’ve experimented as a teenager—who hasn’t? But I never really went “all the way” when it came to firearms. I have looked down the barrel of my dad’s .22. I’ve seen them, touched them, and always wondered what it would be like to fire one. I played a mean Duck Hunt on the Nintendo NES. One time, when I was 15, I shot a black powdered rifle. I learned just recently that it had powder but no ball.

No ball--are you kidding me? I shot an impotent gun!

Last weekend, in the summer of my 41st year I went to Cherry Creek State Park where I ended my secret shame. I went with some friends to celebrate a 40th birthday and shot 12 gauge rifles at some poor, unsuspecting clay pigeons. In 25 shots I hit 13—not bad

Now I will take measures to ensure that I don’t miss out on the fun any longer. I am shopping for a shotgun of my own. I am researching guns, prices, and testimonials. I plan on renting a few before I buy. I am even looking into the law—so’s that I don’t go breaking it or nothing’ like that. (Sorry, my inner-redneck just woke up from a long slumber.) The law in Colorado is surprisingly more lax than the media reports.

Now I know what it is like to walk in the sun for the first time in my life. My step has a spring in it that I have never experienced. I’m going to take my wife shooting on Labor Day—she should share in this, up until now, forbidden passion with me. What a great day to be an American!