The first and only time I fired a gun, it was a moment of staggering idiocy upon which I look back with profound relief. There’d been a knock on my front door, and when I’d opened it, the neighbor lady had been standing there with tears in her eyes and a pistol in her hand. My heart rate had doubled, and I’d choked out an apprehensive “Are you OK?” while tensing up to dive for cover.
Fortunately, she wasn’t there to shoot me. A single mom, she’d accidentally backed her pickup truck over her child’s pet. The animal was suffering, and she wanted me to end its pain. Despite great reluctance, I assured her I would and took the gun.
It felt strange in my hand. Although I was in my 30’s, I’d never held a gun before, and it was heavier than I’d imagined it would be. The animal was lying on a gravel driveway, and as I followed through on my promise, the trigger seemed to resist the pull of my finger.
I’m lucky nothing bad happened. Despite their proliferation in video games and paint ball battles, guns are not toys; they’re deadly implements one must use with great care. What if the bullet had ricocheted off the gravel?
That was over 10 years ago. Guns already had a bad rap back then, but in the ensuing decade, their reputation has declined even further. While I’m not educated enough on the issue of gun control to write about the subject, and although I have no intention of going political in this column, I will say I believe some of the fear of guns in our society is due to mistaken beliefs.
Since the best way to change one’s misperceptions is to get educated, I grabbed my Kevlar vest and drove to Shooter’s Depot on Shallowford Road last week to learn how to shoot a gun correctly. (Just kidding about the Kevlar vest. I simply dressed in layers.)
Shooter’s Depot is a both a retail store and a shooting range. As you’d expect, they sell guns, ammunition and accessories. Since I was early for my lesson, I took a few minutes to browse the aisles. A couple of items caught my eye, including an autographed picture of “Terminator” actress Lena Headey brandishing a weapon from the show, a bumper sticker that read, “Gun control means using both hands,” and a doormat that read, “There’s nothing in here worth dying for.” Subtle.
I also noticed a woman’s purse with a gun holster on the outside. Convenient!
While I was waiting, an employee gave me a tour of the facility. First, she took me through a door that separates the store from the range and showed me a wall containing the credentials of their instructors, all of whom are NRA certified. A brief check on the association’s Web site shows this is no small feat.
She then showed me where people entering the range pick up their “eyes and ears” (goggles and earmuffs) and pointed out the security monitors, which allow the person manning the cash drawer to keep an eye on things. She then made me sign a waiver and gave me my protective wear.
My pulse quickened as she led me through the door to the range. Not only had I never fired a gun again, but I’d never been around people who were firing one. There was a variety of people in the range, including a young girl and her father, a middle-aged woman, a middle-aged man, a college-age couple and an older woman. Each was wielding a different weapon, but they were all intent on doing the same thing: turning their paper target at the far end of the range into Swiss cheese.
I was thinking some were doing better than others when a loud “BOOM” rattled my chest. A heavily built young man had aimed an alarming looking weapon at the green-haired zombie on his target and pulled the trigger. He then gave the gun to his dainty and rather delicate looking female companion, and she followed suit. I half expected the kick to throw her into the wall behind her, but she handled it like a pro, even though, as I later learned, it was her first time shooting. (Nothing higher than a .44 is allowed in the range; the girl had fired a .22 caliber pistol.)
My instructor was finishing up with an older woman, who was taking her second lesson. She grabbed a pair of .22 pistols, aimed both of them at her target, and went Dirty Harry on it. She then laid the empty guns on the ledge in front of her, looked at the instructor and exclaimed, “That was awesome!”
My guide then grabbed me and led me to the vending area, where the instructor, Ronald Zirk, a Chattanooga police officer, would begin our session.
I half expected Zirk to be like the drill sergeant Lou Gossett, Jr., played in “An Officer and a Gentleman,” but my fear was unfounded. He was quite genial. However, as he launched into the lesson, I noticed I was going to have to pay attention; there was a lot to cover, and he was taking fast.
Before handing me a gun, Zirk spent a few minutes dismantling my misconceptions about it and making sure I knew how to safely handle it. “A gun will rarely go off when it’s dropped. Could it happen? Yes. Will it happen? That’s unlikely. So don’t grab one if you drop it because you could pull the trigger,” he said.
Although Zirk talked quickly, I absorbed everything he said, and he went over his instructions several times until I was able to properly pick up and hold an unloaded .22.
My mind went back to the pistol my neighbor had given me. The .22 was lighter, and the trigger didn’t fight my finger. As I aimed at the “Shooter’s Depot” logo by the vending machines, I felt a surge of confidence. “This is easy,” I thought out loud.
It’s not easy for everyone, Zirk said. He’s trained scores of single women who were in tears when they came to him, and whose hands shook violently as they held a gun for the first time. Many had been through things that had compelled them to seek him out. They were on their own, and wanted to feel safe. He said he admired their bravery, and loved seeing the fear melt off their faces when they fired the gun and realized it wasn’t as scary as they’d thought it would be. “Guns are not bad,” he said. “People are bad.”
I was slightly apprehensive as Zirk took me into the range and set up my target. But that feeling left me as he coached me through the application of the talking points he’d covered. My first shots were off the mark, but Zirk worked on my stance and aim, and my shots got tighter. I even put an entire clip through a small red circle.
Zirk didn’t let me load the gun, and he kept the target close, but at the end of the lesson, I was stoked and ready to sign up for another hour.
“Look at this,” he said, pulling my target off its clip and pointing out where I’d put two bullets through the same spot. “Imagine this is someone who’s broken into your home.”
I have no intention of buying a gun for my home or for sport. But the lesson was fun, and I plan on taking my wife. Couples get a discount, so the cost will be only slightly higher.
Perhaps, like me, you have no real experience firing a gun, but want to take a lesson. As this column will show over the next few months, it can be exciting to do something new in a safe and controlled environment. If you get hooked, Shooter’s Depot has regular memberships that are somewhat affordable and premium memberships that cost more but offer perks, such as extended range hours.
One more thing: The Shooter’s Depot is newbie friendly. Not once did Zirk talk above my level of expertise or make me feel rushed, and I never saw any of the veterans roll their eyes at me. In fact, the other shooters were friendly and helpful.
Above all, I’m glad I have a different story to tell when someone asks me if I’ve ever fired a gun.
Email David Laprad at dlaprad@hamiltoncountyherald.com.