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This is such a non issue and easily cured by allowing starting on either side or sweep targets from either end. I am a lefty and I think you might be surprised to find most lefty shooters adapt quite easily to a right handed situation. I don’t understand why a lefty person using a cross draw would have to back across a “right hand oriented” stage. Address the stage straight on for movement and Face down range and turn your torso so as to not break the 170 when you draw. If that is too much to figure out then perhaps you might try double duelist and eliminate the concern all together. Good luck and try new things - TTB

I have been using a pair of blued old model Vaquero's in 357...using 38 cases...and haven't had any trouble yet for six stages using APP and 125grain bullets.

I’ve been running black powder in a pair of Ruger Bisleys at every annual I’ve shot in the last 10+ years and they’ve been flawless. Whichever way you go, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.

Ok, I guess I misinterpreted the format...having seen it done that way. Not that I didn't want to follow the original format...It won't happen again, thanks for pointing it out

MORE SMOKE! MORE FIRE! Love a night shoot

I got no answer from that way either! Just go ahead and order it online. I did, and got it in about a week.

Thanks. I haven't been able to find any German WWII One Man Tracked Vehicles. Might could be it was something captured from the French and put into German service. Or maybe an Italian vehicle. Or maybe Polish https://www.tankarchives.ca/2022/10/polish-tank-destroyer.html

Normally only 6 to 10, whatever fit in the card hold in my suit coat pocket. If I was at a product show, extras in my coat pockets.

Quiet Burp is correct in saying that some Aussie pistol shooters are breaking down new shotgun shells to use in their pistols. Basically shotgun/pistol powder is non existent on the shelves here, Vitavori is coming in small shipments & the prices can be from $120 LB. A website 'Used Guns Australia' had 2 KG [ 4 1/2 LB ] of AS30 [Clays ] for.....wait for it !!!!!!!! $ 1750..that's how stupid it is, shooters gouging shooters..terrible !! A shooter I spoke to was buying a particular brand of shell, breaking them down, selling wads,shot & primers and loading between 1000 -1300 pistol loads depending on the caliber, he was advised of what brand of power was in the original shells so was comfortable with what he was doing..the problem arose where a different powder was later used & he didn't know what it was. It is not something I would do but then I'm fortunate that I have a supply of powder..however I do understand those that are taking that path and really if you are an experienced reloader you should be able to navigate through it without damage to yourself or guns. Recently new shotgun shells were $125- $135...next shipment we are being told $145- $160 depending on brand...some are fetching up to $220 !!!!!! It's a shithole of a situation here at the moment !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please be aware everyone that those standings aren't final or even necessarily comparable since some folks have already shot four matches and I included the best three, and some have shot either only one, only two or only three. Things will become clearer as more matches are shot, but it will be hard to 'predict' standings given you'll be getting the best three matches and we won't know what those are for everyone until TN State is in the books. I'm tabulating as we go so I don't have a monumental task Saturday afternoon after the TN state match. I'll just add TN State results, check shooter's best three are the ones included, sort and post.

An excellent match! I love shooting at Butterfield Gulch. Great stages, great folks, always a great match, (as are their monthlies). Thanks to Flint Hills Dawg and his club for all their tireless efforts and hard work!

And you shot very well and always seemed to be smiling and joking with everyone. Congrates on your win!

Go get'em Scout. Good seeing you again in Kansas. See you somewhere down the trail.

A LACK OF GENERAL GOOD HEALTH Dana Keller hung up the phone, looked at her sister. Both young women were in uniform. Dana was in her Sheriff's deputy's uniform: her blouse had military creases, her trousers were sharply pressed, her Wellington boots immaculately shined: she wore the short necktie -- "I'm not wearing the men's necktie," she'd told her father, "just like I won't wear a Sam Browne with the suicide strap for someone to grab!" -- she looked at the immaculate, feminine nurse seated across from her and said quietly, "That's the third one of these we've gotten today." "The third one of what?" "Other jurisdictions. All telling us the same thing." "What are they saying?" "They're hearing word on the street that Firelands County is a very healthy place to stay away from." "Oh?" "Don't you 'Oh' me, missy," Dana hissed, narrowing her eyes and shaking the eraser end of a pencil at her sister: "I can still take you in five seconds or less!" Angela rolled her eyes, laced her fingers together, twiddled her thumbs and whistled a little, then both pale eyed young women laughed. "So you've gotten three of those today." "Ever since it hit the news that Daddy killed two men barehand, and that after having been shot and sliced across the face." "You can't tell he was ever cut." "Yes you can. It's a fine little scar but it's there, and it bothers him." Dana paused, frowned. "I think it itches." "I know women are looking at him differently." Dana lowered her head a little, as if looking at her white-uniformed sister overtop a pair of schoolmarm spectacles. "I noticed it today. Daddy took me to lunch over at the Jewel. There were ... other women ... there, I think they were waiting, pretending they were having lunch." Angela smiled a little as she added, "I was on his arm." "Good." "They looked at him like they wanted him." "What does your gut tell you?" Angela uncrossed her legs, clasped her hands, dropped them on her knees, leaned forward and looked very directly at her sister. "Ever since he killed the man that put a knife into Mother, he's ..." "He's so high on the collective pedestal it's a wonder he doesn't have nosebleed." Angela snapped her fingers, pointed at her sister. "Bingo." "Have you looked at the autopsy results?" "Not officially, no." "Angelaaaaa ...." Dana said quietly, a warning note in her voice. Angela looked toward the dispatcher, who was elaborately pretending to pay no attention at all. "Multiple broken bones, the most severe in the arms. Joints twisted out of socket, multiple. One throat crushed. Major blunt trauma injuries. I watched the video. I have never in my life seen Daddy like that!" "When he's mad enough to haul a grown man off the ground, bring him up overhead to full arm extension and try to slam him through six inches of pavement --" Two pale eyed sisters shook their heads. "You've got a good reputation yourself," Angela said quietly. "You learned well your Daddy's teaching." "Yeah, well, I'm just a girl. These mopes come in from the city and think I'm just some token featherhead they can run over." "So you have to show them differently." "Like the preacher and the mule, you have to get their attention." "Do you still sing in choir?" Dana nodded. "I watch Daddy's back. We use sign language." "Do you have a carbine in the choir?" Dana snorted. "I wish," she admitted. "At one time there were shotgun hooks on the back of the altar like they used to have in Catholic churches back when. I'd feel better with a low-mag scoped carbine." "I take it you sewed your own choir robe." Dana's smile was sardonic. "Are we related to Sarah McKenna?" "Roger that," Angela sighed, then she looked at her sister and said, "Is there anything else you're hearing about the general health?" "Just that sane and rational people realize this is a fine place to stay away from if you're a criminal. The ding dongs on drugs and the terminally stupid won't pay any attention, they never do." "Don't I know it," Angela grunted. "What Daddy did yesterday ..." "Which what that Daddy did?" "When he slapped his hand down on Mom's knife wound." Angela shifted in her seat. "I know that move, out with it, sister. You know something!" "Yes I do," Angela said quietly, lowering her head and looking suspiciously at the dispatcher, who was busy answering the radio. "Dana, I scanned her hypoclavicular fossa. The knife penetrated the artery and the lung both, it went in deep and it was a kill shot. It is not medically possible for her to have survived it." Dana's eyes never left her sister's. "Then how did she?" Angela took a deep breath. frowned, her eyes dropping to Dana's burnished boots. "Was it your Confederate nanobot things?" Angela shook her head. "No. Mom has no trace of those and never has. Neither does Daddy." "Then what in two hells happened?" Dana hissed. "Dana, do you remember ... our family legends ... when Old Pale Eyes was shot in the side? How Esther came in and laid hands on him and he lived?" "I remember." "Then later, when the Reavers came in with full intent to steal the women and rape the cattle, kill every living thing, burn everything to the ground and salt the earth?" "I remember Daddy reading about that, yes." "Do you remember when his son Jacob was shot? When he and the preacher -- Parson Belden -- were in the church's bell tower?" Dana's mouth dropped open. "How Old Pale Eyes put a knife into his niece's hand and slapped it hard across a bullet wound in the same location." Dana swallowed, memory filling her eyes. "Do you remember the description Duzy gave afterward? How his hand felt so HOT! -- Grampa said the same thing, when he grabbed Daddy's hand to pull it off, he jerked his hand away because he thought he'd been burned. People -- not people, someone -- had their camera in infrared and it looked like Daddy was burning!" "I ... heard about that." "It's one of two things." "I'm listening." "Either it's a God's honest case of Viking Berserkergang, and Daddy is a Berserker, or he can stop blood with the Word and blow fire." "I know he can blow fire." "That's not possible." "Why not?" "It's a gift only women can carry. Men can't ... men can not remember the formula you chant ..." Dana laughed quietly. "Daddy was never one to pay attention to things like that. I don't think Old Pale Eyes was either. He could blow fire too." "Old Pale Eyes didn't heal like Daddy did." "He wasn't in Berserker mode." "So far, Dana, only women of our blood can pilot the Confederate mind-controlled ships. Nobody else, and they've tried to find anyone else who can," Angela said slowly, speculatively. "What if we carry ... some ..." "What if we're more evolved?" Dana suggested. Angela nodded. "Evolved more than Viking berserkers of a few centuries ago? Nah. Something doesn't fit." The dispatcher hung up her phone, turned, held up a slip. "Have a welfare check requested out in the county," she called. Dana stood. "On it." She looked at Angela, who rose as well. "Care to ride along?" Angela laughed quietly. "Why not. I'm still a commissioned deputy!"

No. It was actual video of the tiny vehicle in a German armored column going through a village that was burning.

Sold to Cheatin Charlie