As I have previously recounted some
accidental negligent discharge stories, I suspect I’ve fallen from sainthood.
(yeah, right, as if you thought that previously).
Safety reminders are always in fashion. One can’t be too safe. So, here goes…
I was too excited when I purchased the Bob Hall Signature Model. (in 1983).
A Colt National Match slide, over a Vega stainless steel frame. Bomar-sighted, Armand Swenson ambi-safetied, Micro-bushing. Assembled and tuned by a premier gunsmith. A state-of-the-art race gun, circa 1977.
There was only one issue. It appeared someone had tampered with trigger/sear mechanism, someone not the gunsmith. Bob denied culpability.
The trigger was/is, well, light. Crisp, but light. Maybe two-and-a-half pounds, on a bad day?
And, while I liked 1911s, I knew very little at the time of the manual of arms for such a pistol.
You can see this coming, can’t you?
Something I’d seen in TV and movies (there’s a lesson here-don’t learn from popular media) is that the non-magazine round, the one ‘up the pipe’(aka the Barney bullet), could be inserted individually, in lieu of from the magazine in normal operation.
WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.
I found out later, this is not proper handling, and is also very hard on the mechanism of the machine, like the extractor.
So, I’m sitting in my living room, at my faux-Steelcase desk, with the wife, watching TV. Miss Molly is back in her bedroom, sound asleep. All’s right with the World.
I had cleared my new pistol, and had been dry-firing her, and marveling at the light trigger.
Enough was enough for the night, so I decided to charge her up for her post in my nightstand.
Slide locked back, I manually inserted one round into the barrel, and released the slide stop.
The combat hammer followed the slide forward, struck the firing pin, and, the pistol fired.
Even though I was a neophyte 1911 idiot, thank GOD, I still followed the Four Rules. marginally.
When the slide dropped, the gun was in my right hand, pointing parallel to my chest, slightly downward.
If it had been at less of a downward angle, the round would have passed through the living room window, and across the street. Other homes and people lived there. This could have been problematic.
If it had been pointed a little more away, instead of parallel, the round could have shattered my left knee, as I was sitting with my legs crossed. My right leg is already messed up. This result would also not have been desirable.
My immediate reaction was to ask the wife if she were okay, then asked her to check on Molly. Both were okay. Molly hadn’t even awakened.
After I determined the wall and window hadn’t been breached (thank you God!) I started looking for the missing round.
Then, I noticed dripping fluid. White, dripping fluid!
The round had struck the front of the center drawer in the steel desk, and bounced around inside the drawer, decimating a few papers, and a bottle of White-Out, therein.
Ergo, desks bleed White-Out.
And, thankfully, nothing was seriously damaged, and no one hurt. I was extremely lucky.
A few years later, I sold the damaged, but now historic, desk, to J.R. at Phoenix Process Service.
I’m certain he still tells the story about the White-Out bleeding desk.
h/t Judy, Dave