We load on to a small bus packed with guns, seven men all hyped to go shoot their guns and meet their peers at the range. It is a cold autumn day and you can feel the cool air radiating off of the metal walls of the bus. The bus goes flying down the old dirt roads and the bumps throw us all to the walls, I can only think to myself, “How much longer is this bus ride.” Just at the moment of thinking this, the bus comes to a halt and we all unload onto a dirt parking lot.

While we approach the range you can hear the frozen gravel crunching under our feet and feel the brisk breeze blow across our faces. The firing line was a simple wood desk that stretched out making 5 small cubicles with a tin roof overhead to protect against the elements. The range master for safety's sake now goes over the rules of the range and at this point I can feel the adrenaline running through my body and getting me pumped. After about 10 minutes of a safety speech we all turn around and start to unpack our guns and ammo. One by one you hear people start to fire off rounds, some sound light and fun and others feel like they are changing the orbit of the planets and finally my dad looks at me and calls me up to the firing line and my mind can only think “I am ready, let's do this”

As I walk up and approach the firing line I can feel the tension and eyes on me as this is my first time shooting. My dad tells me to sit down and then start teaching the basics of how to not only hold the gun but how to fire it as well. After the talk I pick up the old .22 revolver that is frigid from the cold air, I raise up the revolver and cock back the hammer readying the gun to shoot, My father comes up and corrects my stance by spreading my legs further apart and telling me to lean into it but I realise that once he is finished it is on me to fire it. As I pull back the hammer I feel a crisp click of it snapping into place, I align the rear sight with the front sight and press my finger on the trigger feeling it drop back, I hear a tiny CRACK sound echoing off in the distance. From there I squeeze off 4 more rounds, all giving off a beautiful cracking sound, sending my adrenaline through the roof. Small dirt patches from the bullets hitting the backdrop kick up showing where I hit.

After the revolver is unloaded I set it down onto the table and look at my dad in awe. He just looks at me and says, “wanna do it again” and a grin spreads across my face but there is one problem… I can’t feel my fingers. The mixture of me not having gloves, being small and it being so cold out has left my fingers numb and with a sharp burning sensation but nevertheless I start attempting to load the gun. My fingers cannot grab onto the tiny bullets to load them in and I start dropping a few, but the determination of me to fire it again wins and I finally get it loaded and ready to fire. I step up to the line and pull the trigger just barely unloading the gun and setting it back down before we all decide we have had enough of the cold and pack up and retrieve the targets. When we go down range to get the targets I notice that mine has 4 bullets right through the bullseye. I turn around ecstatic and shout to my dad “LOOK I GOT 4 IN THE MIDDLE” and I run back to show him, In turn getting a sincere congratulations and pat on the back along with some notoriety from some of my friends at the range. The whole ride back I feel so proud of myself to have fired my first gun and I feel like a true man for hitting the bullseye (even though it is only a .22.)

This moment will forever mark a changing point in my life. A moment where I feel a love for guns and a burning desire to learn as much as I can about them. To this day I still am obsessed with guns and I still love learning about the history of guns and learning about the different types of guns.