I almost chose to not share this experience, and instead to just bury it. However, I think I want to use this as a chance to remind everyone of the ugly reality of the ND. If you feel the need to chew my ass over it, that's fine. I feel like I deserve every bit of it.
I recently got a ruger single six. Nothing special, not super-tactical, reload times measure in years. It's just a fantastic gun. Accurate, reliable...basically nothing to improve. Not being able to leave well enough alone I disassembled it and polished a few points with a hard stone and basically to familiarize myself with it. I reassembled and performed the drop test several times on a hard surface, which it passed every time. Great. I stood and dry fired for a few minutes with it pointed out a window with a view of a patch of trees. This gun stays loaded for use around the house, so I reloaded it. I have no children, nor do any regularly visit, so the most danger this poses is my dumb ass grabbing the thing and doing something stupid. After reloading I set it on the table and commenced to do a little work on my thesis for grad school, which I did for maybe a half hour. Then for whatever reason, I picked up the gun, pointed it at the window and pulled the trigger. There was nothing out there to hit. All I damaged was some dirt. I was lucky, and there is no other way to explain it.
Seriously guys, this freaked me the hell out. For several days. I have been hunting since age 8 and competed with rifles through high school and college, so I consider myself an experienced firearms handler, at least before that incident. Both of my neighbors (~100 yards to either one) have small children, what if the gun had been pointed there? What if my wife had been in another room and I had pointed it that way? The seriousness of all the ways this situation could have played out are scary. All because of my plain-fucking-stupid carelessness. To say I am ashamed of myself is to not even scratch the surface.
Moving forward, and since having a loaded gun in the house is non-negotiable, I am establishing "loaded gun zones" in the house. In other words, very small locations where a loaded gun is kept, with no exceptions. It is a system that seems doable in my house with just my wife and I. I am outlining them in red tape, just to reinforce this in my little pea brain. Additionally, I'll just follow the basic fuckin rules of gun safety that your average fuckin four year old can repeat by heart (at least around here).
In conclusion, I feel awful. The sinking, sick-to-your-stomach feeling I got when the gun went off has only subsided slightly. I was lucky. Nay, God himself must have been present and looking kindly on me. Crawl my ass if you want, I deserve it; but hopefully someone will learn from this. Accidents happen, yes, but when the stakes are so high, perfection is not optional. You can not take a bullet back, so please, I implore each of you to be present when handling firearms. Don't be a statistic like I almost was.
I recently got a ruger single six. Nothing special, not super-tactical, reload times measure in years. It's just a fantastic gun. Accurate, reliable...basically nothing to improve. Not being able to leave well enough alone I disassembled it and polished a few points with a hard stone and basically to familiarize myself with it. I reassembled and performed the drop test several times on a hard surface, which it passed every time. Great. I stood and dry fired for a few minutes with it pointed out a window with a view of a patch of trees. This gun stays loaded for use around the house, so I reloaded it. I have no children, nor do any regularly visit, so the most danger this poses is my dumb ass grabbing the thing and doing something stupid. After reloading I set it on the table and commenced to do a little work on my thesis for grad school, which I did for maybe a half hour. Then for whatever reason, I picked up the gun, pointed it at the window and pulled the trigger. There was nothing out there to hit. All I damaged was some dirt. I was lucky, and there is no other way to explain it.
Seriously guys, this freaked me the hell out. For several days. I have been hunting since age 8 and competed with rifles through high school and college, so I consider myself an experienced firearms handler, at least before that incident. Both of my neighbors (~100 yards to either one) have small children, what if the gun had been pointed there? What if my wife had been in another room and I had pointed it that way? The seriousness of all the ways this situation could have played out are scary. All because of my plain-fucking-stupid carelessness. To say I am ashamed of myself is to not even scratch the surface.
Moving forward, and since having a loaded gun in the house is non-negotiable, I am establishing "loaded gun zones" in the house. In other words, very small locations where a loaded gun is kept, with no exceptions. It is a system that seems doable in my house with just my wife and I. I am outlining them in red tape, just to reinforce this in my little pea brain. Additionally, I'll just follow the basic fuckin rules of gun safety that your average fuckin four year old can repeat by heart (at least around here).
In conclusion, I feel awful. The sinking, sick-to-your-stomach feeling I got when the gun went off has only subsided slightly. I was lucky. Nay, God himself must have been present and looking kindly on me. Crawl my ass if you want, I deserve it; but hopefully someone will learn from this. Accidents happen, yes, but when the stakes are so high, perfection is not optional. You can not take a bullet back, so please, I implore each of you to be present when handling firearms. Don't be a statistic like I almost was.