Holy s*** that's loud!

No, not Richard's new Borla exhaust: the Springfield Armory 1911-A1 GI .45.

What a weekend. I delved into my inner redneck and pulled from the depths the basest and most animal feelings I've ever known. It all started on Friday night with the installation of a rear sway-bar on the MINI. Chris K. had me wrenching on the car, crawling around underneath, and cranking down with herculean torque. Then we went back to their house and slammed the booze while being groped by a 90lb doberman.

Of course, that wasn't enough for me. I needed more! So I went back on Saturday to tackle the front sway-bar, an oil change, and the oh-so-complicated installation of a new rear wiper blade (which, of course, I screwed up and broke --I rule!). I was so impressed with myself. I wanted the installation of the sway-bar to go quickly, so I yanked off the wheels, hopped under the car, and dropped the front sub-frame all by myself (with the exception of the lower engine-mount). Man, what a rush. At one point, I realized that the part I was lowering was the part right above my pelvis. (Um, hmmm, yeah...I'm not too comfortable with the notion of 1400lb falling on my crotch. Somehow I don't think that would feel very good.) So I moved around to the other side and kept cranking. I was having a great time until we discovered we needed a tool that we didn't have. So Mark ran to Lowe's and Chris and I started on the oil-change.

I WILL NEVER EVER TAKE MY CAR TO CROWN FOR AN OIL CHANGE AGAIN.

Don't you do it, either. Those apes tightened my oil-filter housing down to OVER 110 foot-pounds of torque. The frickin' thing has "18 foot pounds / 25NM" stamped into the metal. Chris had to put a jack-handle over a breaker bar and unleash a string of profanity to break the thing free. Of course, he also had to give a blood sacrifice (sorry, Chris!).

Then, when Mark came back with the Torx wrenches, I promptly rounded the head of the first bolt. Unfazed, I moved on to trying the sway-bar bushings. With no way to put a breaker bar on them, I just couldn't get the thing to budge. Chris tried: nothing. So, time to consult the manual. 122 foot pounds!!!!! Nope. Not today. So we put the car back together and headed over to Richard's house.

*sigh*

So Sunday we went out to Montpelier with Chris S and his wife to shoot. What a rush. We were unloading a .22 Ruger Mark 2, a S&W .38 Special, a Rohm .38 Special, a Browning BDA .380, a Beretta .40, a Springfield Armory 1911-A1 G1 .45, and Chris's .50 black-powder rifle. Amanda and I took some pictures. I've never felt like a Michigan Militia member before, but this was really something. Some of the guns were really fun to shoot, and some were work. Chris had told me to fire exactly one shot from the .45 without hearing protection, just so that I would know what to expect if I ever used it for home defense. Oh...My...God. I have no idea where that bullet went; I was too busy ducking from the sound of that thing. Jeez. The whole world went completely silent for about 5 seconds, and I felt like someone had punched me in the ear. I've played in a very loud band, been to airshows, and generally engaged in very loud activities in my life, but nothing has ever shaken the world like the sound of that gun.

I can't wait to shoot it again.

Happy Valentine's Day! Yeehaw!