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I think I mentioned recently that on a trip south in 1987, on business to Atlanta and then on south for holiday, I was going to do exactly that: the gun brouhaha had got noticeable and I thought I'd sign up for one o' them courses and check out the scene, seriously.
However, I picked up a hitchhiker in Atlanta and spent the next two weeks doing less disciplined things, then I got the flu like a mule had kicked me in the belly, and then he drove me and my Suzuki back home and stayed here for the next three years.
My favourite hitchhiker in the deep south, maybe of all times (well, barring that one, and that didn't work out so well after all), was the one I'd picked up about a year before in Florida and taken to ... I guess all the way to New Orleans, with a stop in Birmingham overnight (no, separate rooms).
He was a young fellow, 18 I guess, and he announced that he'd been in Florida on holiday before going to join the army. Hm, I thought, what would make someone do that? (I did know the reasons, having been closely connected with a Vietnam deserter of the non-liberal élite kind, a guy who needed a job.) So I asked. And the answer was not one I would have guessed.
Have you heard of Nostradamus? he asked. Uh, well, yes ... wondering what was coming next. Again, I couldnt have made it up. Well, Nostradamus had predicted a worldwide conflagration, I forget what the date was supposed to be, a few years thence. So the young fellow figured that when this happened, there would be a draft. So if he got his military service over with now, he'd be exempt from that draft.
I did move away from him slightly on the bench, but he turned out to be quite harmless, if pretty boring. But he deserved a lift.
My other two favourite hitchhikers were in the US too, also before that Atlanta-Florida escapade. The older woman (well, probably younger than I am now, now) in rural Maine who had been to town to buy a turkey for her grandchildren who were coming to dinner, and who was the target of games of pickup truck chicken until I stopped. I said no problem, I'd take her a few miles off the highway, I was just out for a drive anyhow. She tried to press a couple of dollars on me for the trouble, but I just laughed and said if I could use her bathroom we'd be even. Well, I didn't press the point when we got there and I realized she didn't have a bathroom.
And then the guy maybe in his 30s whom I picked up in Tennessee who was going to Ohio to see his sick mother. He was an unemployed painter, very unassuming. He admired the pretty Canadian currency in my change pot, and then got a little thoughtful and said: what's it like up there in Canada? are you free to go anywhere you want? I resisted the urge to say "no, look at me, I just escaped!" because he really was a nice guy. So I said well, it's pretty much like it is down here, except we have free health care. He was pensive a moment, and then he said Ahhhh.
So listen, I'll say it again -- I really like the idea of sports shooting. It's the kind of "sport" I'm good at. No running around, no heavy lifting, none of that teamplay nonsense. Kind of like euchre. Well, except for the eye-rolling partner part. But seriously, spacial perception is a forte of mine, much as we girls aren't supposed to have that little attribute. My little brother, who is very like me in almost every way, missed that bit when our odd genes got handed out (we are all brown-eyed children of green- and blue-eyed parents, once thought to be genetic impossibilities). Some years back, he and I played with one of those "here's a three-dimensional object opened up in two dimensions; which of these four objects is it?" brain tests in a magazine. I whipped through it, and after 10 minutes of turning it over and around and backwards, he threw it at me and said "what the hell am I supposed to do with this?" My fine motor skills are fine too.
So unless the recent eye probs proved insurmountable, I do think I'd be good at it. Keep nagging and I may even do it some day (I'm not actually positive whether I would need a possession licence to shoot at the local recreational facility with theirs). Target shooting, and skeet shooting and all that, they're sports. Nothing to do with toting pistols around in public, or amassing arsenals in one's home, or having access to any variety of firearm and accoutrement one wants.
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