June 9 2007

Well gang, about eight years ago, we were going to reopen the clubhouse and ranges. And it seems that Clyde Paterson, chairman of the Party Committee was out on the ranges that week mowing the grass on the 1,000 yard rifle range when he got caught in one of those frog strangler thunderstorms we get out that way.
He and Josh Walker had already put the mowers away and were starting on their third case of beer, when the storm hit. It is reported that they grabbed the igloo of beer, jumped into Clyde’s old pick-up, and were headed off the range, when the windshield wipers stopped, and the lights in the cab went out.
"It’s probably just a fuse." Josh is said to have remarked.
Clyde reached over and fished around in the glove compartment for a fuse, and inserted it into the fuse box. The lights and the windshield wipers came back to life, and they grinned at each other, sipped a fresh beer, and continued down the road.
On later examination it would turn out that the fuse was really a Twenty-two caliber mini-mag that did an admirable job as a fuse up until the point that it got hot enough to explode.
The tiny round shot through the bottom of the fuse box, bounced off of the clutch pedal, went through the bottom of the can of beer that Clyde was drinking and blew off his left nostril before putting a hole in a brand new Stetson.
Josh Walker, of course, was laughing so hard that he had tears running down his face, and couldn’t drink his beer without blowing half of it out his nose. Which, of course got Clyde laughing.
"Damn it, Josh!" laughed Clyde, drinking blood from his nose with his beer, "this is no laughing matter. "A Stetson, is a Stetson!".
Those boys are still keeping the ranges tidy, and if we ever reopen the ranges, it will sure be nice to see them again.

Till next week
Helga Biermeister
Secretary