First Gun: "Fluffy"

Only known photograph of "Fluffy" below:

This Ruger GP100 was doomed from the get go, but will forever have a special place in my heart. "Fluffy," as we so lovingly called it, is the one to blame for all of this.

Many moons ago I accepted a job with an armored car company. No, not the military armored vehicles. We were a rag tag bunch of rent-a-cops on armored vans hauling money around the state for banks. "Armed UPS delivery people" we referred to ourselves. It was my first job when I graduated college, and the first job I had upon leaving my home state of New Jersey for my new home in North Carolina.

It was also the first gun I had ever held, let alone fired.

My introduction to guns came from the required course in firearms handling for that company. It was a lengthy class taught by a retired soldier, and we learned safe handling, care, and how to shoot the guns. The first time I fired Fluffy was my first time shooting a gun, and that first time was for keeps. I was shooting to keep my job. By state regulations, we had to shoot with 80% accuracy to be allowed the license to carry on the job.

I am not ashamed to admit to you all that the first round I fired - a nice little 38 spl wad cutter - hit the target of a retired State Trooper shooting in the position next to me. Little did I know that one round would change my life. I was terrified on that shooting line, and that first round had me convinced that I was going to fail to qualify and would be out of a job.

Upon the request of the instructor, I took my place finally and did it for keeps. When the day was over, I had scored 86%. As I tell people, the instructor, Max, was about 50 feet tall, and I was too scared to fail!

Fluffy became my faithful companion for a year, and was named by my co-workers. I practiced with it weekly, spending my free time at the local firing range I would be employed at three years later. The people at that range knew me well... I was the girl with the revolver in the little red tool box.

It was almost one year to the day that Fluffy gave up the ghost. During my range time, the firing pin broke. Not being my personal weapon, it was up to the company to fix or replace. Fluffy was deemed scrap metal but the company decided not to replace it. Being stuck with a gun that now did not fire, the wheels began turning on the person sitting before the screen right now.

I headed out to that range the next week with my paycheck in hand. Fluffy was to be replaced with the first gun in a parade that I own.

We all have to start somewhere. I began this blog with the intention of helping shooters of all levels. I am especially interested in new shooters, as you will eventually see. Yes, I'll have plenty for the seasoned shooter here, too. But I want anyone who is considering picking up a gun for the first time - or a shooter with a gun who may be apprehensive about going to the range for the first time - to read this post again. I want you to understand that my first time shooting a gun I was terrified! I didn't think I could do it. My morale was so low everyone had counted me out. I shot someone else's target, for word's sake!  And I am willing to admit all of that time and time again. I tell every new shooter who comes to me for help about shooting someone else's target that day. Why? Because as I said... we all have to start somewhere. No one is born an excellent shot. Not everyone will become a world class shooter. But if you try, you can get far fast. Listen to your instructors. Take that chance. Our sport is a fun one. It has many sides to it. And me? I've gone from the scared girl with the old revolver shooting someone's target to a girl with her own huge revolver and then some, shooting in various matches. I've gone from not knowing how to hold a gun to building them. I've gone from shooting to keep my job to shooting because I love it. And I dare say that if Max even remembered me, he'd be proud.