Old School Bond gun gets new grips

"The name is Bond. James Bond."

Sigh. Remember the days when Bond was a man, played by Sean Connery, and not the emotional train-wreck that Daniel Craig turned him into? Back in the era of good Bond films, the hero carried the iconic Walther PPK, because it "has a delivery like a brick through a plate glass window."



OK, that may have been a bit of over-statement, or "industry puffing", but it's still a nifty little gun that I tend to carry myself from time to time when I'm forced to carry a small handgun or just want a pocket gun. Mine is a Smith and Wesson-produced version in .380. I picked it up some years back, cheap because it was broken. My plan was to fix it then sell it, but by the time I'd finished test-firing it, I'd decided that it was a keeper. And here it is:

Well that's what it used to look like until I took it up to Michigan this past December and Aaron broke it on our range trip.

OK, he didn't really break it. He was just the one handling it when the left-side factory plastic grip shouted "I'm coming, Ethel!" and cracked in half. But it's more fun blaming him than not.

A replacement set should have been no big deal, one would think, but most of the aftermarket replacement grips out there are made for the Walther PP or PPK/s, and ones that fit the smaller-gripped PPK are difficult to find and pricey when you do find them.

Fast-forward to a couple of weeks ago when I looked on Flea-bay and happened to find a nifty wood set offered for sale at a decent price indeed. One close look at the grips and I knew that I had to have them. Can you tell why?

Yep...it you didn't notice, these custom grips have the Louisiana Fleur de lis on them.

With my impending move to the Pelican State just three weeks away, how could I not order those?

The fit is great, and the grips are just a bit thicker than the factory plastic, giving me a better grasp of the pistol with my large hands. The checkering is deep and should make retention easier than the slick plastic ones that these are replacing.

I'm happy. And as much as I don't like to dowdy up a perfectly good weapon, these grips be stylin'. And I think that Sean Connery and Roger Moore would approve. (Screw the rest of em, especially that Craig toad.)

Now I'm all set for nights on the River Walk and strolls through Jackson Square.

Patriot's Day. A Good Time Was Had By Most.

So in commemoration of those brave Americans who stood their ground on Lexington Common in 1775, the day that the "shot heard round the world" was fired as British troops sought to seize American cannon and powder stores in Concord, Old NFO, Proud Hillbilly and I went out to the range to burn some powder of our own.

We got out there a bit before noon, and the place was packed, notably with a group of yammerheads who took much delight in sitting on the 25-yard pistol range and firing AR-15s as fast as they could jerk the triggers. Here's a tip, AR guys: If you put out half a dozen sporting clays on the berm 25 yards away and three of you empty your thirty-round magazines as fast as you can at them, and when you're done most of the clays are STILL THERE, you're doing it wrong. Just saying.

But it was M1 Carbine day for the three of us. Jim had a wonderful old Winchester that seemed to have missed most of the upgrade modifications, PH had her post-war carbine, and I brought my CMP Rock-Ola carbine, just because I wanted to fit in. I also brought out my Remington Rolling Block .50-70, and we fired off the few black powder rounds that I'd loaded up for it. I've got the load down pretty good--now I've just got to adjust the rifle's sights to it. (And that .50-70 sure gets your shoulder's attention after a few rounds.)

Then Jim and I fired a few rounds of .22LR for effect, me with my trusty old Ruger 10-22 and him with a sweet vintage Colt Woodsman and his Savage .22 rifle.

Next, we switched to pistols for a bit. I had my Uberti SAA and Walther PPK out, Jim had a beautiful Colt Match Target .38 Special, and PH...Eh. Just a Glock. (But she shoots it well.) ;-) But by the time we started shooting these, a rather large group of what looked like college kids showed up and the range staff put them on two pistols and two AR rifles on either side of us. It was immediately obvious that none of them had shot before, so, after we did our duty to new shooters and coached a few of them, we called it quits for the day and adjourned to a local restaurant for lunch.

My rifles:

Top to bottom: Remington Rolling Block, Model 1871 made for NY State Militia; US Carbine, .30 M1 made by the Rock-Ola Corp.; Ruger 10-22.

My pistols:

Uberti Cattleman, .45 Long Colt (top) and Walther PPK (bottom).

Ah, that PPK. Packs a delivery like a brick through a plate glass window, or so sayeth Ian Flemming when he had James Bond issued one in Dr. No.

It was a much-needed relaxing day out for the three of us, and a great way to celebrate Patriot's Day.

So who didn't have a good time today?

Well when we got back to my house, Murphy met us at the door. Alone. Where was Belle? I called, but no Belle came. Quickly, Jim and I looked around the house. No Belle. Damn, she was in here when we left. Where could she have gone?

And then I heard something whine and scratch at the inside of the closed bathroom door off the kitchen. Yep. Poor Memphis Belle had managed to get in there after we'd left, no doubt to raid the dog food bag that I keep in there or to sample the kitchen scraps in the trash bag that was in there. (Both bags were in there specifically to keep them away from two dogs, BTW.) Well Miss Belle managed to knock the door shut while she was in there, trapping herself quite nicely. She may have been in there for up to four hours, and let me tell you, she destroyed the place during that time. The trash? Scattered everywhere. Dog hair and paw-prints? Everywhere. There were scratches on the inside of the door and paw-prints in the bath tub, up on the top of the toilet tank, and even on the sink. I even found claw marks on the window sill five feet off the floor as Belle apparently climbed on the toilet in an unsuccessful attempt to try to get out the window. Poor girl. She was a little upset when I finally sprung her to say the least. But she got over it quick enough when she saw her new friend Jim there and her and Murphy both jostled each other to get some petting from him. I'm still mad at her though. And I'm blaming Murphy for it, too. I can't prove it, but I'm sure that he was somehow at least partly responsible.

Now I'm off to clean guns. Have a great Patriot's Day, everyone.

Movie night: Skyfall

OK, this time I got in to see the latest James Bond film.

To be honest, I'm not sure if I liked it or not, yet.

One thing I didn't like: Seeing all those signs at the theater door saying "No Firearms Allowed".

Didn't that theater in Aurora, Colorado have pretty much the same sort of signage? Why, I think that they did. Fat lot of good that did.

Fortunately, I think that there is a common-law exception for people who specifically carry one of these to a Bond movie:

My name's Law. Murphy's Law.

Took the little ones out to shoot.

THESE little ones--(from top to bottom) The Ruger LCP, Walther PPK, and Smith and Wesson Model 642.The first two are .380 ACP and they hold seven shots each, the S&W is .38 Special and it holds five.

Given my druthers, the .38 is still my favorite carry pistol because it's the most powerful of the three, and I consider five .38's worth seven .380's any day, especially in a quality pistol like this little Smith. But all three of these pistols have their applications. The LCP has the worst sights and trigger but it practically disappears into my pocket. And that horrible trigger acts as a reliable safety to keep negligent discharges in said pocket from occurring.

In between, the PPK...well it's got style going for it. James Bond and all... (Yes, I know that his was .32ACP and not .380, but I didn't need yet another anemic caliber in my ammo closet.) But this PPK probably has the best trigger and sights of the three of them. It's got a serious Double-Action/Single-Action trigger and small but prominent front and rear sights, whereas the other two only have front sights and a channel instead of a real rear sight.
The PPK came broken from a Gunbroker sale although it was represented as being fully functional and I just fixed it after finding the necessary part and schematic at Numerich Arms.

None of these are match pistols, nor do they have the stopping power and magazine capacity of a modern combat pistol, but they all have one thing in common that makes them handier than larger, better fighting pistols--they're small. They're easier to conceal than a full-size 1911 or K-frame revolver, and they can often just be slipped into a pocket, making them more convenient to carry into more places than a full-sized pistol. That means that sometimes they wind up with me where one of my regular carry sidearms might not be. And Rule #1 of a gunfight is: "Have a gun".

These three also have the one prerequisite for any gun that I'll ever own or carry: They're reliable. They shoot when I squeeze the trigger and the round goes where I aim it. They may be small, but in a crunch they'll still put rounds on target every time, and that's not something that you can take for granted when buying a gun. If your pistol won't fire your chosen self-defense rough a hundred times out of a hundred, it's not reliable enough to trust you life to no matter how small or light or "cute" it is.

Shooting

As expected, Aaron over at The Shekel and I got out and did some shooting. The fact that it was about forty degrees with high winds didn't stop us, although it did cancel out our plan to work on precision pistol drills because it was blowing so hard that Aaron's most excellent target stand kept blowing over. Such is life. But a little wind wasn't sufficient to keep us from having some fun with the M60.
Here's adorable me, firing from the prone position.

And here's Aaron, shooting from a kneeling position.

Aaron has some better video, at least of him shooting the gun, and he'd better post it to his blog ASAP or else I'll tell the story about how he told his wife and kids that we had a pig in his Jeep, making them run out to see...the M60. She called him a few bad-sounding things in Russian when he explained the joke.

Whoops. I guess I told it. But he'd still better post that clip.

Aaron also had his Uzi out, and I managed to find an M1 Garand in my M1 locker that I've apparently never fired before. It was a World War two-dated Springfield Armory (June, 1945) with a correct barrel date but later birch wood. Moving the rear sight up seven clicks from park put it dead on at 100 yards and we had some fun nailing coffee cans and my old worn-out Midway brass tumbler with that one. I also got to shoot my S&W 642 and a new (to me) S&W-produced Walther PPK that Aaron found for me. Unfortunately it was plagued with malfunctions, and a detailed examination this afternoon shows that it's missing the ejector spring, something the apparently less-than-honest seller had to have known about had he shot it or even closely inspected it even one time. At least it'll be a quick and easy fix, and then I can go and be like James Bond--he's been making one-shot, three-hundred-yard kills with his PPK for decades so you just know that it's truly an awesome weapon.The big and the small. M1 Garand and Walther PPK. I can't believe that I've never shot this Garand before...

I started out the day using my crutches because the leg just wasn't cooperating, yet by the evening, not only was I back off of them, but I was able to go out with Aaron and The Spud for a few rounds of Lazer Tag. Much fun and the adventure-deprived Spud lives for stuff like that. It actually went well until the last game, when a collision with some long-haired college kid put my down pretty hard on that leg. I paid for that the rest of the night. At least the kid was polite and helped me get back to an upright position again, and I promptly zapped him as soon as I could shake off a few of the pain warning alarms going off in my head. (Hey, he was on the other team, after all.)

Meanwhile, my mother was learning the hard way that you cannot leave food on the counter when the Murphinator is on the prowl. Fortunately casualties were limited to a bag of rolls and most of a pack of cheese slices.