AyatollahGondola
Regular Member
I decided to take advantage of the lull between the hot, and the soon to arrive stormy weather and go for a hike to the gun range today. I needed to prepare for hunting season, and the best way is to suit up and practice a little. You don't want your first day out in the field to be the testing ground for you and your gear, because it usually costs some dough to go on safari, and these days, that's a big concern. You could end up spending a hundred or two, and come home empty handed, and with pulled muscles or who knows what other ailments. Before I went abalone diving for the first time each year, I always took a quick check out dive locally for the same reasons. So I put on my hiking boots, grabbed my 30.06 and 20 rounds in a waistband carrier, along with a bottle of water and a small amount of cash for range fees and emergencies. I slung the .06 across my back and headed out from home shortly after noon. My route was a little less than "as the crow flies" due to school zones, but I guessed the trip was 10 miles one way. The temperature was hot, but not unbearable, and the sun was beating down pretty good, but that's one of the hazards you may have to endure if you hunt in the warmer parts of the north state. I had to cross the freeway almost immediately and then headed for the straight line of Folsom blvd. Folsom was to be the straighest and longest leg of the tour. Traffic was pretty heavy actually, and it wasn't long before I found myself waiting to cross several lights, most on the freeway onramps.I had made it a little past Bradshaw road, and only about a half mile from home when I heard sirens and suddenly saw two different units in the oncoming side of traffic. I swear I thought they were headed elsewhere, because one looked like he was passing the other, but I found out that I was their call. Turns out there were several more behind me, but I am deaf in one side, and was concentrating on the two that were in my immediate front. Those two stopped and took up firing positions from their cars, one a handgun, and the other a rifle. Next, came orders being barked out from several people, both fore and aft. I couldn't tell you how many units were there at that point, but it was more than five, and from several agencies. They began giving me conflicting orders because they weren't at all in sync, but I yelled out that I have a hearing problem and told them that they were not being consistent. You know, one guy is yelling don't move, and another is yelling put your hands out away from your body, etc, etc.
I ended up face down on Folsom Blvd on the hot pavement with probably a hundred cars stopped on both directions watching this. They cuffed me, and started drilling me with a few questions, to which I just answered that I was going to the gun range. they got me up and walked me to the car, put me in and then drove off the street to a business parking lot. There was some discussions to the effect they just needed to check me out and make sure that I was or wasn't something. So there I sat in the back of a unit with several others inspecting my gear, my rifle, my rounds, and a few other personal effects. Every so often one would come and tell me it wasn't going to take long. After a bit someone came and asked where I lived, home address, because I don't have that on anything I had with me. My license has a PO box, and they found that stashed in a side pocket of my little camera case. I don't care that they know where I live, so I gave them my street. They asked if the gun was registered to me at that address, and I doubt that really, having moved once since we bought that twenty years or more back. One smart ass cop, and I don't remember which one made an off handed comment as to my hearing loss as he shook my hearing protection in front of me. Something to the effect of "If he's deaf, he doesn't need these". I let that one go, because when your half deaf you get people making stupid comments from time to time, but anyone that shoots at a range, even a smart ass, is required to wear hearing protection, even if you're born with no ears. Them's the rules out there. So after a little time someone came and got me out and said that I was going to be freed, but also started questioning me about where I was going, and what I was doing. There was some rhetorical question about me testing them, to which I just told them I was actually testing myself. I reiterated that I was going to the range and gearing up for the season, to which another said the range is like 10 miles from here. He asked if I would like a ride there, to which I flatly refused, and I told them I was well aware of the distance and that exercise was part of the plan. I reminded whomever it was I was standing next to that I was told I was to be freed, and didn't like being lectured while wearing handcuffs. So I was released, and there was some further questioning of my judgement in a veiled sense. One cop said I should at least open the bolt on my rifle as I walked, but I mentioned I had ten miles alongside the road and I wasn't about to get dirt in there. Another pointed out that my route was to take me through a bad part of town, and I reminded him that I have lived in the bad part of town here for quite awhile. Actually, the part he was referring to is somewhat worse alright, but at least it's a busy street and there would be witnesses to call for ambulances or whatever. I was allowed to gather up my stuff, re-sling the rifle, and headed out with a few of them still shaking their heads as if they did not believe I was going to complete my hike. I headed back down Folsom Blvd at a little increase in speed, having lost a half hour or so with that episode. I saw quite a few units pass me from time to time for the next hour or more, but maybe they were keeping an eye on me for safety reasons.
So that was the cop encounter for the tour, but that's also not the end of the discourse for the day. I'll catch you up on that tomorrow, because I still had nine miles of city slickers to go. Just to recap though, there were many units that ended up responding, CHP, County sheriff, and City police. I didn't get hurt or anything, but my good pair of glasses were scratched up pretty good while I was down on the pavement. I am a little more concerned than yesterday about the manner in which gun owners are percieved, and the loss of what I consider our better ways of life
I ended up face down on Folsom Blvd on the hot pavement with probably a hundred cars stopped on both directions watching this. They cuffed me, and started drilling me with a few questions, to which I just answered that I was going to the gun range. they got me up and walked me to the car, put me in and then drove off the street to a business parking lot. There was some discussions to the effect they just needed to check me out and make sure that I was or wasn't something. So there I sat in the back of a unit with several others inspecting my gear, my rifle, my rounds, and a few other personal effects. Every so often one would come and tell me it wasn't going to take long. After a bit someone came and asked where I lived, home address, because I don't have that on anything I had with me. My license has a PO box, and they found that stashed in a side pocket of my little camera case. I don't care that they know where I live, so I gave them my street. They asked if the gun was registered to me at that address, and I doubt that really, having moved once since we bought that twenty years or more back. One smart ass cop, and I don't remember which one made an off handed comment as to my hearing loss as he shook my hearing protection in front of me. Something to the effect of "If he's deaf, he doesn't need these". I let that one go, because when your half deaf you get people making stupid comments from time to time, but anyone that shoots at a range, even a smart ass, is required to wear hearing protection, even if you're born with no ears. Them's the rules out there. So after a little time someone came and got me out and said that I was going to be freed, but also started questioning me about where I was going, and what I was doing. There was some rhetorical question about me testing them, to which I just told them I was actually testing myself. I reiterated that I was going to the range and gearing up for the season, to which another said the range is like 10 miles from here. He asked if I would like a ride there, to which I flatly refused, and I told them I was well aware of the distance and that exercise was part of the plan. I reminded whomever it was I was standing next to that I was told I was to be freed, and didn't like being lectured while wearing handcuffs. So I was released, and there was some further questioning of my judgement in a veiled sense. One cop said I should at least open the bolt on my rifle as I walked, but I mentioned I had ten miles alongside the road and I wasn't about to get dirt in there. Another pointed out that my route was to take me through a bad part of town, and I reminded him that I have lived in the bad part of town here for quite awhile. Actually, the part he was referring to is somewhat worse alright, but at least it's a busy street and there would be witnesses to call for ambulances or whatever. I was allowed to gather up my stuff, re-sling the rifle, and headed out with a few of them still shaking their heads as if they did not believe I was going to complete my hike. I headed back down Folsom Blvd at a little increase in speed, having lost a half hour or so with that episode. I saw quite a few units pass me from time to time for the next hour or more, but maybe they were keeping an eye on me for safety reasons.
So that was the cop encounter for the tour, but that's also not the end of the discourse for the day. I'll catch you up on that tomorrow, because I still had nine miles of city slickers to go. Just to recap though, there were many units that ended up responding, CHP, County sheriff, and City police. I didn't get hurt or anything, but my good pair of glasses were scratched up pretty good while I was down on the pavement. I am a little more concerned than yesterday about the manner in which gun owners are percieved, and the loss of what I consider our better ways of life
