After Aunt Clickity got her passing grade in the permit class by proving to the instructor that she is capable of using her gun without hurting anybody she doesn't intend to hurt, I stuck around to sight in a hog rifle. In the ensuing conversation, the instructor mentioned that he did classes off the schedule for groups of ten or more. A seed was planted.
When I got home, The Lovely Bride agreed that we probably had enough friends, family, family of friends and friends of family to cobble together at least ten intrepid souls to form a class.
TLB's day off is Monday and, when she got to work Tuesday Morning, the groundwork was already in place. Aunt Clickity had spent all day Monday proselytizing for the cause of concealed carry and several people wanted to get in on the next class.
I sent a few assbook messages and the first two netted us three students. This was gonna be easy! Aunt Clickity had four lined up. Our niece was on board as was a brother in law and we had two more probables depending on whether my coworker would get around to asking one of his friends.
If everything went right we had our Ten and it just took 2 days.
Then the brother in law dropped out.
Then two of Aunt Clickity's didn't have the money. Then the other two weren't sure because one was eighteen and was intimidated.
Suddenly I'm herding cats.
Then the instructor called. I was afraid that he was going to ask me about the head count. Nope. He called to tell me that someone else had called him to get in on the class. I had given the lady one of his cards a couple of weeks before and she wanted in.
Over the course of the next week we had all but three back in the corral. The brother in law was out and two of Aunt Clickity's still didn't have the money. Communicating through Aunt Clickity, through TLB, through me to the instructor, they wanted to know if he took credit cards. He did but had never used the swipey gizmo that he had so he wasn't really interested in trying it out just yet. Sarcastically, I suggested that they might try paypal. After doing so, I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask the instructor if he did take it and danged if he doesn't!
By that time, another week had passed and TLB was at work when she heard someone whispering "Hallelujah" over and over again behind her. She turned around and there was Aunt Clickity whispering "Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Halleujah" over and over again, making little silent clapping motions with her hands.
"Oh Hallelujah WHAT?"
"They have Paypal."
Her other two friends had already paid by Paypal. That made eleven.
The appointed day arrived and the class went great. One person even brought her husband so we had twelve.
We had no lesbians this time but the diversity police would have still been pleased because we had a mixed race couple and TLB's friend from work came with her daughter and they are African American. I know it dissapoints liberals to no end but we just ain't as good at being bigots as they are at calling us bigots.
The indoor part went smoothly. The best questions came from the 18 year old.
Once we hit the firing line, we split the pack into groups of five. The instructor took the left and his
Sister in law had her husband's 9mm and had trouble loading the magazine. The whole push down and then slide in thing wasn't happening for her. We did get her five rounds loaded and she hit blue paper when the instructor gave permission to fire one round.
The Adjectiveless Niece (I'm tempted to call her something like "The Elfen Niece" but I'm not sure that doesn't carry a connotation that I don't want to imply - the class was in Ft. McCoy but I don't live there) was next to her. Both took their blue paper assailants out of the gene pool.
The next group included the 18 year old and her Mother. Since the Mother was TLB's friend from work, they were assigned to me. The girl borrowed the .32 H&R from TAN (TEN?) and loved it.
The little gun has a bull barrel and a round butt. Its easy to hold and its easy to hold steady. We were shooting .32 S&W Longs with cast lead bullets and my own home made bullet lube.
Back during the heady days of Bill Clinton Presidency, Buckshot and I did some experimenting along the lines of "where would we get ___________ if it were suddenly banned?" Among the ensuing projects, we cooked up our own bullet lube from unconventional ingredients. This stuff had a good proportion of commode flange ring in it. It works well enough as a bullet lube in the .32 and it makes a tiny puff of smoke when its fired. Kids and new shooters love it. They can see that they've shot something.
The 18 year old went through the drill and gradually got her shots pretty well centered. All the while she kept telling me "I can't believe I can do this!" When her group was finished, she asked if she could keep a spent casing as a souvenir.
Whoo-Hoo. That's what its all about!
The last group was just two folks. My Buddy Ray and his girlfriend. Her Mother had died a few days before but she had said she would attend and she kept her word. Both shot well. I believe Ray did better than anyone.
The class adjourned to the local Bubba Ques for lunch. Appropriately, this particular Bubba Ques has sulfur in its water.
In the aftermath, I sold the Hapgood shotgun to a friend for a wall hanger, TLB joined The Well-Armed Woman and TAN learned how to cast her own bullets for the .32. Seriously, my 19 year old niece that hadn't touched a gun until 18 months ago is casting her own bullets for the .32.
I don't know how it could have gone better.