I made a Feedly share of all the blogs I follow in my RSS feed. Here it is.
I made a Feedly share of all the blogs I follow in my RSS feed. Here it is.
A couple of months ago I found an ad online from a metal fabricator who specialized in third gen Toyota 4Runners. He’s a former AC-130 gunship maintainer who got his certificate in welding and then started making racks and rock sliders.
I drove up north past Sacramento to his place to have the work done. As I’m driving down this road with Beale Air Force Base over my left shoulder, a U-2 spy plane flies low and slow overhead. That was a good sign.
Here’s pics of my guy at work, as well as the final product:
John in his workshop/garage. I hung out in the yard with the goats and the chickens…including a rooster whose days were numbered.
Ready to mount.
Rock sliders aren’t going anywhere.
Rack installed. The front crossbars made a whistling noise when I went past 35 miles an hour, and worked up to a pretty good howl at 60. Installing a Thule rack fairing, while kind of a kludge, fixed the problem completely.
Love this kit. It’s well presented and very well engineered. The pacing is good: although there are 60 individual steps, each step isn’t overwhelming. Instructions are clear and well illustrated. Excellent detail, minimal flash and the injection points aren’t huge like Dragon, meaning I break fewer parts getting them off the spruces.
I’m only 1/3 of the way through, but in my opinion Meng is the equal of Tamiya, which I consider the gold standard. Much preferable to Dragon or Trumpeter. Definitely my not last Meng kit.
My original Ruger 10/22 from 2002. I decided it was finally time for some upgrades.
Power Custom Titanium extractor. I installed this circa 2006 after an average of 4 out of 10 rounds of bulk .22LR would fail to eject properly.
The new extractor didn’t help, but I think my rifle just doesn’t like cheap ammo. It happily consumes CCI Stinger .22 HV.
UTG Low Profile Rail Mount for Ruger 10/22. Meh, it was eight bucks on Amazon. Seems to do the job. I do need to threadlock the mounting screws, but I keep forgetting which color Loctite to use. Blue, I think. I guess if I’m wrong it won’t matter very much as I need a scope mount anyway.
Tasco 3-9 Rimfire scope. A simple $40 scope. The scope rings didn’t mount to the UTG rail mount, so I threw some old Leupolds I had on it. At least I think they’re Leupolds. Anyway, the reviews are good and the scope functions decently for what it is.
Volquartsen Target Hammer. The trigger on the 10/22 has always been heavy and gritty. You would think that after making 7 or 8 million of these rifles Ruger might improve the trigger, at least marginally. Anyway, this took the trigger down from about 10 pounds to what feels like two or three pounds.
A much better option than buying a completely new trigger set, especially the new Ruger one. The Volquartsen kit cost half as much. The installation was more involved, but once you get the hang of it can be completed in five minutes flat.
Note to Volquartsen: your instructions for this product are terrible. I am not sure how anyone with a casual interest in 10/22s can follow text-only instructions printed on a piece of paper the size of a folded-up playing card. Good thing I had YouTube or I would have been unable to figure out how to install it.
Volquartsen Bolt Hold Opener. Another thing you’d think Ruger would get around to fixing–the inability to close the bolt by pulling backward on it. You know, like all rifles.
Caldwell Pivot Bipod. Nice, and will allow me to easily shift targets downrange. Another Christmas present from the wife.
TacSol 10/22 .920 16.5″ Barrel, Threaded and Fluted. By far the most expensive upgrade to this rifle. An easy install, provided you have some sandpaper lying around to sand down the base to make it fit.
I decided I was tired of black rifles and would go with the “Quicksand” color, which kind of looks gold in the photos I’ve seen. I decided I would either love it or love irritating my friends whenever I whipped it out and outshot them with it.
As it turns out, it’s actually flat dark earth.
Hogue Overmolded .920 Bull Barrel Stock, Ghillie Tan. I really didn’t want to buy this, as my 10/22 already had a Hogue OM stock on it. Unfortunately the new TacSol .920 barrel wouldn’t fit my older stock.
I had some misgivings about the fleks and crap in the mold of the rifle. As it turns out, it looks pretty good, especially paired with the Quicksilver barrel.
I haven’t shot the upgraded rifle yet, but from an ergonomic standpoint I like it a lot. The shorter, squatter, heavier barrel brings the natural balance point farther forward, making it a lot easier to handle. It reminds me of the M-1 Carbine, my favorite-handling rifle out of the hundreds of different types I’ve held.
It actually looks like a new rifle, except for the banged up ejection port on the receiver. I thought about touching up the marks or even sending the entire receiver out to be Cerakoted, but have come around to keeping them. I think it adds character. This rifle wasn’t born yesterday.
Swapped it out with the Volquartsen Extended Magazine Release part and everything was cool.
Last July, I had to cat-sit for a week for my best friend. He and his family lived roughly two miles away, in a quiet neighborhood, and the route from my place to his is fairly quiet. For most people that’s not really a problem. For me, that was a problem.
Despite growing up in San Francisco, with its traffic, hills and occasional traffic, I was never comfortable with the idea of driving. My parents drove a stick shift VW van, parking on 30 degree hills, wedging themselves into tiny parallel parking spaces, and dealing with San Francisco’s notorious scarcity of parking spaces.
All the time I was a carefree passenger, reading day or night, window open blasting cold, foggy San Francisco air. I rode for years without a seatbelt, sticking my head out of the passenger window like a dog, spotting for my parents as they pulled out of a tight parking spot, and completely oblivious to the difficulty of driving a stick shift up and down the city’s hills.
Unfortunately, none of this familiarity actually helped me when it was my turn to drive. In my junior year I took driver training and dreaded actually being put behind the wheel. I was terrified. I only did it twice, briefly, driving very slowly around the Inner Sunset, as though some catastrophe could happen at any moment.
My father took me out again during college, and had me drive around Lake Merced. It went badly. I drove at about five miles an hour, petrified that somehow I might end up driving the family’s brand-new SUV into the lake. Cars drove around us, infuriated, honking.
Dad never brought up driving again.
My wife, who got her driver’s license at sixteen, has done most of the driving. She’s done it mostly without complaint but there have been times, such as the time she broke her foot exploring tidal pools and I made her drive home, that I really needed to drive but couldn’t step up to the plate.
What was the problem? Other people, mostly. I was afraid that other drivers would, not paying attention, crash into me. Regardless of who was at fault, any accident was mine to worry about.
I picked apart every possible driving opportunity. Contemplating even a short drive to the store, my mind filled contemplated disaster at nearly every driven foot. What if the car doesn’t start? What if I can’t make that turn? What if I get stuck in the middle lane and can’t turn? What if I get a flat tire here? There? Anywhere? What if I can’t find parking when I get there?
Ultimately, was driving to the book store worth getting killed? Which could—and was—reduced to is driving to X worth getting killed? Not surprisingly, I could not think of anything that was.
Of course, all of this is basically true. There are a lot of idiots driving. The car might not start. I might not be able to find parking. All of these possibilities, sometimes seemingly an infinite number of them, always negative, could indeed happen. And there is a lot of willful ignorance by drivers as to how dangerous driving really is.
Bu it’s also absurd. You can sit around all day and watch videos on Liveleak and watch cars bash themselves apart, catch fire, and hurl themselves off cliffs, but the chances of any of that happening to me was exceedingly remote. I knew that, but still.
Also—I was not a bad driver. On the contrary, people told me I was very good. When I drove. Unfortunately that didn’t make much of a difference. It was a frustrating situation to be trapped in for years.
Back to last July. My friends were out of town for an entire week, and that meant making the trek to feed the cats every day. On the first day, my wife gently reminded me of the obligation and suggested I drive there.
“Yeah, ok.” I said joylessly. In the previous year, I had probably driven a total of ten minutes. Driving there and back I have little recollection except realizing the trip went pretty well.
The second night I made the trip I realized I was not afraid, and I was actually enjoying the trip. Upon arriving at my destination I parallel parked in a very generous space. But then I did something strange–for me, anyway: for the next fifteen minutes, I practiced getting in and out of the space.
I never practiced driving. Who practices for something they don’t plan on doing? I began to realize that something extraordinary was going on, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
The third night after making the trip I drove around my neighborhood. I wanted to. I was also testing the boundaries of this new, good feeling, seeing if it had any limits. I drove for an extra twenty minutes, going places I used to loathe going, doing things I had begun to think I would never do.
By the end of the week I had come to a realization: at some point in my recent past, my anxieties and fears about driving had subsided. Completely.
In fact, driving felt great. I felt more peaceful and calm driving than I felt sitting alone, by myself, with nothing to do. Driving was relaxing.
By the third week, I started looking at cars of my own. All of the sudden, I liked cars. Car culture made sense to me. I stayed up at night looking at cars, measuring them, looking at aftermarket parts.
All of this amounted to a very noticeable lifestyle shift. “What happened?” People ask.
“I have no idea.”
Maybe it was getting older. Maybe it was frustration bubbling over. Maybe it was shooting dangerous guns and not finding it dangerous at all, and that sort of lending a perspective things. Maybe it was being shot at and facing my own mortality, and realizing it hadn’t really bothered me–driving was nothing compared to that.
Maybe it just happened.
I told my wife I wanted a car. One month after I started my cat sitting mission I had my first car, a 1999 Toyota 4Runner 4 wheel drive with a single previous owner. It’s reliable, the body styling still looks good, and mechanically it will easily last another 100,000 miles. And, if I want to totally lose my mind, I can pump thousands into aftermarket parts such as bumpers, rock sliders, and roof racks.
I’ve already put a fair amount of work into the truck. I had it wired for iPhone connectivity and installed a backup camera. I had the upper and lower ball joints replaced, the radiator replaced, off-road shocks and springs installed and virtually everything that could fail checked. It’s all good to go. It’s nice to know that if I woke up one day and decided I wanted to see the Panama Canal, I’d almost certainly make it without any problems.
A lot of the work, like the light bulbs and refinishing the spare tire, I did myself. I spent hours underneath the truck with a power sander, wearing a respirator and eye protection, knocking off rust that the truck picked up during a two year stay in upstate New York. After that I covered the affected area with a rubber underlayment and gave myself a pat on the back. Lying on my back, feeling the crunch of broken glass and asphalt through my t-shirt, hands going numb grasping the power drill was a wonderful feeling.
(Then I panicked when I realized I sprayed underlayment on the catalytic converter, but my mechanic was able to get the stuff off and didn’t even charge me.)
Did I drink the driving Kool-Aid? I did, like everyone else, and it was delicious. Driving is expensive, yes, but it’s fun and opens up nearly limitless possibilities. Could I still die horribly in a car accident? Sure. But I probably won’t. In the meantime, there’s places to go.
This summer we’ll be shooting to the 200 yard berm.
It’s an AR-308 lower. I really have no plans to turn it into a full-fledged firearm. The idea of drilling and milling aluminum was kind of intriguing.
Our complex has a work room, but the lighting is bad. Not as bad as my kitchen.
I am nonplussed to discover that I am wearing the same shirt that has been in my Twitter profile for four years. I do have other shirts.
Yes, you can shoot an AR-15 with Prada eyeglasses on.
Here’s our target for the weekend, a junked Volvo door.
Center ring is mine. Inner ring is a Vortex Crossfire II–a princely scope on a writer’s salary. And yes, that scope mount is temporary.
Outer circles are my surplus Aimpoint M2 on a Wilcox mount. I’d hate to break the dynamic duo up, but I suspect that it’s just not an accurate combination. May have to replace with a Bobro or American Defense mount.