Fall was a fun time for me. Not only was I now bowling in a league, but this was also the time when I learned about trap shooting and riding horses.
Our neighbors directly next to us had a young toddler boy that I began to babysit to earn some money. The dad was a dealer in a casino, and the mom was a waitress in a hotel. This was a steady job for me at the age of fourteen, and I didn’t have to travel far. I would babysit two or three times per week in the evening when their work shifts overlapped.
I learned that the dad was a very good trap shooter as well. One weekend he offered to take me to the shooting range to learn how to shoot trap. I was excited about this offer and requested permission from my mom since I would be handling, and shooting, a real gun.
I remember her telling me, “You can go. Please be careful.”
I did not know much about guns. I was about to learn a whole new sport, and it would be a painful sport for me and my skinny body.
One Sunday morning in early fall he and I, his wife and their son, all piled into their car for my adventure in shooting a gun.
When we arrived at the range, he took me to a learning area where he presented me with an over-under 12-gauge shotgun. This was going to be my gun for learning.
It had beautifully engraved metal with a highly polished wood stock that would fit into my shoulder gap. He also had me wear a special shooting vest with padding to help absorb the recoil. He also explained what recoil was.
He then gave me a safety lesson on how to properly carry the shotgun when walking around.
I will add that the shooting range was like a private club. The clubhouse was surrounded with high trees full of leaves providing lots of shade to the ground below the tree canopy. This place was beautiful and set neatly in the open desert in northeast Las Vegas.
He called over the trap master, well that is what I was told he was, to let him know that I was an absolute beginner and needed shooting instruction. The trap master explained that there are five positions to shoot from and that I would be starting with slow speed traps, otherwise known as clay pigeons.
Before shooting at the clay pigeons, the trap master stood with me and said in a firm voice, “When I say shoot, you pull the trigger and get ready for the recoil.”
He checked to see that the stock was correctly placed into my shoulder pad. With a grin he stepped back a couple of feet away from me and the then announced, “Shoot.” I slowly squeezed the trigger while pointing the shotgun out to the sky where the flight path of the clay pigeons would be.
Wow and ouch! I was knocked back in my stance, and the recoil went solidly into my shoulder all the way to my bones. My first time firing a real shotgun was an experience. And it was painful and exhilarating both at the same time.
I did have earplugs in my ears which helped me cope with the noise made by the shotgun shell igniting to blast out the lead shot. And I was wearing a pair of shooting glassed that was given to me for the day.
The trap master had me do this shooting exercise for another five or six times before telling me that I was now going to shoot at a clay pigeon.
He worked with me to practice rotating and how to follow the target and when to pull the trigger. His instruction including the most important part in shooting, how to lead the target for the kill.
He also had me try a double-barreled side-by-side shotgun. After shooting it a couple of times I decided that I preferred the over-and-under shotgun.
I was now ready to do a full round of positions. If I remember correctly, the full round consisted of five shots from five positions. After completing this first round I was done for the day. My shoulder was so sore I could barely lift my arm. I needed rest.
I also met several other boys my age who were seasoned trap shooters. I was a newbie and they were damn good in this shooting sport. They could complete a round without missing a trap. That meant 25 clay pigeon kills.
I learned that after shooting they liked to go horseback riding.
One afternoon they invited me to go with them. There was a stable close to the shooting range where they went. So, I agreed to join them and off we went.
When we got to the stable one of the boys introduced me to the trainer and he worked with me on how to ride. Again, this was another new experience for me. After about half an hour he said the other boys would teach me more once we were out on the trails.
And that is where we headed to, the trails.
It was a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon in the desert. I could feel the heart of the sun slowly baking me while the heat caused sweat from my horse glistening caught my eyes as we rode further into the desert. The boys were now ahead of me and galloping farther ahead by the seconds.
I did the giddy-up to encourage my horse to gallop so I could catch up.
My horse began to gallop, and I discovered he was a fast horse. I began to get closer to the other boys. They suddenly stopped and I began to think to myself that I could pass them. And then my horse slowed and suddenly came to a stop alongside them.
We were all looking down into this gully that had just appeared out of nowhere. We were lucky that horses can sense danger. From my memory, I am guessing that the gully was a good ten feet down.
We turned our horses and rode along side the gully until we got to a spot where we could go into the gully and then up the other side so we could continue our trail ride.
I remember this day because of the gully.
When we rode other trails, the adventure was more predictable. And we rode many trails together over many Sundays. They were my Sunday friends.
So, with this new sport, my weekends were basically full. Bowling on Saturday mornings, trap shooting on Sunday late mornings, and horseback riding on Sunday afternoons.
Saturday afternoons I spent listening to music and hanging out with the two brothers. Some Saturday nights I would grill burgers or hot dogs.
This year was becoming very interesting. And there was much more to come.
Much more…
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