Lost In Louisville

I said something about a full write up of the Knob Creek Range trip, so here goes.

Close Call @ Fort Knox

Last Sunday I had to go into work. It's awful and I don't want to talk about it. I called by buddy Nick as I left to see what time he was going to get to the range. He said about an hour. I was about 15 minutes away from KCR at the most, so I grabbed a bite to eat. I'm a fast eater, and was left with another 45 minutes to kill. I decided to take a little drive down the Dixie highway, a drive I hadn't taken in quite a while.

I noticed the turn off to Hwy.44 which leads to KCR and made a mental note to look for the big Fishers Meat billboard on my way back. It was a nice drive, taking me past West Point, Otter Creek park, and into Fort Knox. That's where I had a bit of a scary situation. And if anyone of you government types read this, keep in mind that I didn't do anything on purpose.

I got into Fort Knox and decided it was about time to turn around and head back towards the range. So I picked an exit where I thought I'd have little trouble turning around. This particular exit was the one leading onto the base and to the Patton Museum. But when I came to the end of the exit ramp, much to my surprise, all of the turning options were closed-off by concrete barriers and orange barrels. I was suddenly funneled into a line awaiting entry to the base, and a security checkpoint.

As I approached the checkpoint I saw a sign to the right of the guard booth. It had a big black gun and a big red circle-slash "No". My mind moved quickly to the two guns in my trunk. The two guns that I was innocently going to shoot innocently at the completely legal gun range. I also thought about the fact that these guns were not mine, but my mom's. And then I thought about what life in military prison might be like.

I pulled slowly up to the lady in the road checking everyone's ID. "I didn't mean to come in here" I say. "I just need to turn around. I didn't mean to come in here."

"Ok. Just pull around there to the inspection point and they'll show you where to go." She directed gently.

Great. No problem. Just pull around to the inspection point. Oh Jesus! Did she say INSPECTION POINT?!?

Sure enough. She said and meant 'inspection point'. There it was, a little aluminum carport thingy, with about five armed security guards. The guy ahead of me was stopped with his doors open. And his trunk open. And they were going though his stuff. Shit.

So I prepared myself. There was going to be a certain point, wherein I would have to decide to tell these guys about the guns in the trunk. It is never a good idea to let police of any sort be surprised by weapons on your person or in your car. By all means, let them know.

But on this occasion it was not necessary to blurt out a confession immediately after rolling down my window. No, if they were just going to let me turn around there was no need to cause trouble.

They finished with the gentleman ahead of me and motioned for me to pull under the carport. Rolling down my window, I repeated the line I had given the previous screener: "I just need to turn around. I didn't mean to come in here."

"I'll need to see your license" he says. I hand it to him with a smile. He walked around to the back of the car, checking the plate and looking at my license. I was quickly approaching my threshold. I was going to have to 'fess up soon and deal with the consequences.

He wondered back up to the window, handed me my license, and directed me to go up to the next road and 'hang a u-turn'. The tone of his voice made it pretty clear that if I failed to make said turn, I would be a candidate for target practice out on the tank range. I did as instructed and drove directly back up onto the highway as quickly as possible. I'm not sure if it's possible to drive like you don't have guns in the trunk, but I'll be damned if I didn't try as hard as possible to do just that.

"Light 'em Up"

I made it over to KCR with little fanfare. My heart finally slowed and the sweat dried. I had to focus on the task ahead. You shouldn't fire deadly weapons when your hands are shaking.

The Knob Creek Gun Range, home of the Knob Creek Machine Gun Shoot, lies back a narrow road off of Hwy44. Given that most folks at this gun range drive 4x4s, it was not a surprise that the road had not been cleared. It was a little treacherous, especially crossing the little wood-planked one lane bridge, but the Focus made it.

I waited for my friends to arrive, watching people fire all sorts of weapons. Automatic, semi-automatic, muzzle-loaders, riffles, shotguns and handguns. The range sits down in a little valley which provided a hell of an echo. So I inserted the ear plugs I purchased at K-mart the previous week.

Nick and his friend Justin arrived shortly, and we got to business. We paid the $7 range fee, purchased ammunition, and set to laying-out our guns. When the horn blew for the cease fire the rangemaster checked for hot muzzle-loaders, allowed them to fire, called for everyone to open their actions and put their guns down. After that process was complete he allowed everyone to go retrieve their targets. We walked down the snowy range to set up the items we brought to shoot.

I placed my computer at a decent distance. Nick tried and failed to get his metal post target into the rock-hard ground and then set-up a gallon jug of orange liquid. Justin set up a tin picture of Charles Grodin. We returned to the tables, and prepared to shoot.

We shot a wide range of weapons, and as you can see in the pictures, shot the hell out of that computer. It was a hell of a time, and I plan of making a regular trip of it. If only I had an endless supply of junked computers to destroy.

Posted 6:50 PM by Jackson Cooper |