Early to rise. Errands called us out on a Sunday morning, first to Flippin. I bowed to the urge to treat Smudge’n’me to breakfast — a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit from Casey’s.
My Heeler appreciated it as much as I did.
We ran west to Yellville and picked up a couple of items at Harps, then returned to The Mountain.
You can still get gas in Heaven,
Mark Knopfler (2009)
and a drink in Kingdom Come.
In the meantime, I’m cleanin’ my gun.
With rain in the afternoon forecast, I decided to field-strip my EDC semi-auto pistols, lubricate the important bits and do function checks. I started with the Glock 19.
Here in the cabin, I have no dedicated workbench — the kitchen table serves the purpose. To avoid scratching the oak top, I put down a folded towel and cover that with a… well, check out the photo below.
That’s a puppy training pad. I don’t need to use them with Miss Smudge, but I still have a modest supply on-hand. They’re perfect for tasks like this, catching every bit of oil and grime.
Now I should’ve been training regularly with that Glock, but I haven’t. I haven’t even had it out of its kydex holster in quite some time.
How long, exactly? This long:
That’s shameful.
Glocks are forgiving, of course. They shrug off neglect. This example is over 20 years old, and in tens of thousands of rounds I’ve never experienced a failure of any kind. But there’s no excuse for this.
I must do better.
I disassembled both the 19 and my P365, swabbed the bores, applied Hoppe’s where required and put them back together. Functions checked out fine.
While I had both pistols in front of me, I unloaded their magazines, inspected each round for chambering wear and then loaded them up again. All part of my ritual.
Naturally, it felt good making sure that the Glock and the Sig are in-shape and ready. I’ll get back into running drills more often, and with that I’ll settle into my maintenance groove again.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable