How NRA Firearms Instructor Rick Ector Was Robbed In His Own Driveway - Part 8
Pure luck, it seems, brought a gun into my possession that fit my hand perfectly. I couldn’t test fire it, as the shop didn’t have a range. So I had to “take it on faith” that I could handle shooting it. I must have filled out a ream of paperwork that day; it was like closing on a house.
Anyhow, it’s funny now recounting the experience, but I was – in all truth – nervous while carrying my new encased gun from the back entrance of the shop to my car. I mused how ironic and funny it would be if I was to now be robbed of my new gun at the gun shop.
My next stop on my personal armament tour would be to venture back downtown to police headquarters to have my new firearm “safety inspected.” Before having my gun inspected, I had no idea of what tests they were going to perform to properly test my gun.
After they safety inspected my gun, I am still ignorant to the process even though I witnessed it with my very own eyes. Bottom line: by the time I left police headquarters this time, my name, my personal info, and the fact that I owned a handgun were now entered into a database.
On my departure from police headquarters I picked up a copy of an application for a Concealed Pistol License (CPL) from the front desk. I opened the envelope and read the application. It was rather lengthy but informative. I figured that I would peruse it more thoroughly in my car. Right before I left the building, I asked a near-by police officer for a place where I could go and shoot my new gun. He specified a range and told me how to get there.
(To be continued)
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