Bench-Talk

   Just a note to say what great customer service I recieved from Premier Reticle. They recieved my scope on 7-13 and I recieved it back from them today, 7-19. The scope was in their shop a total of two days and was shipped back to me postage paid.

   Those who know me know that I have Bad JuJu hanging over me when it comes to these 6X HBR scopes. Most recently, my Leupold/Premier M8 Tactical's reticle rotated to the right after a shot and this was the scope that went back for repair.

   Not to done in by such a now-common occurance as a broken scope, I had a new Burris HBR2 in-the-box and ready to be called into service. On it went...hopes ran high. After several mediocre performances and thrashing on the gun reminicient of my best 'change the camshaft between rounds' drag racing efforts, the Anti Accuracy Beast finally revealed itself in all it's horrific ugliness. In dead air, four shots into a .180 with another one 3/8" high. Then, as if to lull me into dropping my guard, an tidy flat .2 group formed, followed by another group that had a perfect vertical string measuring .450...one on top of another just as tidy as you please. Then, a  .241, albeit with three Mickey Mouse ears.

    Moving to 200 yds., I fought back the rising nausea of chronic 'scopeisapieceofcrapus' that has been with me like a recurring case of dysentery. I made no elevation adjustment...nothing to skew the results.  A five shot group of .5-something teased, but I was ready for the Bad Scope's tricks. I ran the elevation up 8 clicks, fired 5 shots and gazed slack-jawed at the 2.5" (yes, Virginia...a two and one half f^$&ing inch) group.

   Dejected, disappointed, frustrated, but happy to have found the source of my woe, I loaded my crap up and headed for the High Chapparal and the tender ministrations that I knew my bride would provide once she heard of yet another chapter in ongoing saga of 'As the Scopes Turn to Junk...or alternately titled 'Optical Companies Declare War on Al Nyhus for the Duration of his Life' (unabridged and uneditted). Dreams of a cool drink served me as if I were Hugh Hefner vanished with her statement of "Can't anyone make better stuff than what they make you use?" Out of the mouths of babes comes truth, so the saying goes.

    Today, brother Todd took pity on me and loaned me his spare Leupold/Premier to aid in my effort to get back to square one. Todd is no stranger to scope woes himself, having been on the recieving end of several scope-blows...whether this is due in part to our blood brother status or him just being  too close to me when the Scope Anti Christs have chosen to decend is unclear...collateral damage, so to speak. Stepping face to face with the Beast, he flipped the Scope Anti Christ the finger and allowed his scope to reside in harms way...cradled in the bedded rings of one of my rifles. A few splashes of holy water and it was off to the range.

   All seems well...the Black Gun pinwheeled X's as if guided by an unseen force....perhaps the 666-festooned Scope Beast has been vanquished to the Underworld for a short time.

    But somewhere out there IT lurks....just waiting for the moment when all seems well and Nirvana appears dimly on the horizon.

   If nobody loads next to me from now on, I'll understand, guys. Really. And if you want to brave the odds and stop by and say "Hello", I'll be easy to find. Just look for the guy with the Rosary around his powder measure and the offering plate on his loading table. All offerings appreciated and advisable.   Especially, advisable.  -Al