My first experience with a pistol.

  Well, this morning was hilarious and kind of scary all at the same time. I wake up at 7am every morning to go with my Dad to run his morning errands. Today was a little different as we drove out into the desert to fire his pistol that he inherited from my late Grandfather.
  If there are people out there reading this that have never been to or seen New Mexico, you should know that it's a strange place to live. There's patches of desert everywhere, and basically the entire west side (where I live, unfortunately) is a suburb living in the middle of a dessert next to huge mesas. It's beautiful, but walking through the sand to get to a safe place to shoot a vintage revolver is a pain in the ass.
  So, we were on our way home and my Dad wanted to teach me to shoot a gun, which being an almost 17 year old girl that lives for fashion and the arts, I had no interest in whatsoever. He said I would feel a thrill when I shot it, like an adrenaline rush that's better than sex, but I am telling you now, I felt nothing. That's beside the point though.
  We walked out into the desert where we usually go hiking, and he loaded his pistol and shot it probably five times, laughing every time he shot it. I know for a fact that we're not supposed to shoot inside city limits, so I kept telling him "Dad, we're right by a neighborhood, we're going to get in trouble." And my Dad being the cocky guy he is said, "I can talk my way out of anything if we get popped." And so I sighed heavily and trudged along behind him until we were far enough out in the desert so that the houses were not visible.
  He handed me the gun, showed me how to cock it, and then I aimed and shot. Now, I thought that it was going to have a ton of power and knock me right on my ass, but all it did was make a loud pop that made my ears ring for a few minutes. It wasn't that great.
  So, then this guy that was walking on the trail right by we were shooting asked us to stop for awhile while he walked by, and we said okay. Then my Dad got paranoid and so we headed back to the car. On the way, my Dad spotted a white, glistening cop car. He started to panic. I told him that the cop had no proof that it was us (unless he were to walk up to us and see the pistol in the holster on my Dad's belt), and lucky for us, we parked far enough away from the cop that he couldn't even see the car. So we got in and drove off.
  Then, on the way home, there was a cop behind us. I knew we weren't going to get pulled over because 1. we were going the speed limit and not driving recklessly, and 2. the cop didn't know that the people that had fired the gun were in a car like ours (if he even knew about the gun shots). We were home free. Still, my Dad was panicking and saying "Oh my god, he's gonna pull us over. I'm going to jail.". I told him to stay calm and act natural, not that he needed to because the cop had passed us and eventually turned off onto another street. My Dad was relieved because he had it in his head that we were going to have company at our house if we were followed. We wondered then if there was even a cop in the cop car we had seen while in the desert on the way back to the car, because we remembered that we see that same cop car every time we go hiking. He or she must live in one of those cookie-cutter brick or adobe houses.
  Realizing this, we starting laughing our asses off that we got scared at all, but I told him that I would tell my kids that the first time I fired a gun I almost got arrested. Just to spice up the story. I don't think I'll ever fire a gun again. I'm just not into it.

Cheers,
Georgia Bevard xoxo