I blows my mind that citizens of The United States can allow such an infringement of The 2nd Amendment. If such restrictions were put on the right to peacefully assemble, and religious freedom the cry would be heard across the country.
The writer also did a previous article on the pain of becoming a gun owner in New York.
Target Practice In New YorkAmerican Handgunner | American Handgunner
A Trip To Derange
By Dave Kaplan
In the March/April 2016 issue of American Handgunner I wrote about the red tape and headaches involved with obtaining a handgun license in NYC, fancying myself an aspiring "Good Old Boy," which I meant in all the good ways. As you might expect, the hardship didn't end with finishing the bureaucratic gauntlet and finally obtaining a license and a handgun. The struggle continues each day, to where even a trip to the range becomes a logistical nightmare. There are three ranges I have used, each requiring I jump through different hoops depending on its rules and location, ensuring what should be a fun and relaxing range day — is nothing but a stressful chore.
Since there is no single gun range within a reasonable driving distance from my home where I'm allowed to shoot every gun I own, I have to pick and choose which I feel like shooting on any given day. Most ranges within the five boroughs, including my local club, don't allow shotguns, although that doesn't stop them from selling shotguns.
I can train with my handguns locally, but to train with my shotgun I have to make a trip out to Long Island, where I'm also not allowed to bring my handguns. The same Cuomological laws allow Long Islanders an adjustable stock on 12-gauge shotguns but not on .22 rifles. Likewise, semi-automatic .22 rifles with pistol grips require registration, while rifles in much larger calibers do not, provided they have a Thordsen stock. Look that one up to get a good laugh.
Derange Day
Range day begins with unloading not just my guns but my low capacity magazines, because in the existential quandary which is New York, a magazine with a round in it constitutes a loaded weapon. Each empty handgun gets a trigger lock to ensure the foam inside the gun case is completely flattened and the case itself bulges when I try closing it. Since that clearly isn't cumbersome enough, I'm also required to put a padlock on each case, which ironically helps hold it closed and prevents the trigger lock from popping it open.
Each gun I travel with means another key on my keychain and more paperwork in my range bag because, of course, I have to carry all applicable licenses and certificates of registration. Since ammunition has to be carried not only in a separate container — but in a separate part of the car, rather than use the ammunition pouches on the padded heavy duty water-resistant shotgun case that my best friend bought me for Chanukah, I just toss loose shells into a used grocery bag and throw it on the floor in the back of the car.
I've also taken to hiding the shotgun case in a garment bag and carrying it by a hanger because the locals throw red paint when they see me carrying a gun. Bet you don't have that problem?
On range day I'm always extra careful to obey traffic laws — to the letter — while cruising through Queens at the blistering posted speed of 25 mph. Due to the traffic in NYC I probably wouldn't be going much faster than that anyway. Getting pulled over with a gun in the car, even for a minor violation, would be a disaster as the "duty to inform laws" are a bit ambiguous. Surely the next morning's New York Times headline would read "Gunman with Fully Semi-Automatic Assault Pistol Leads NYPD on High Speed Pursuit."
Save for getting pulled over, while in transit with a firearm I'm not allowed to stop for any reason. Stopping for coffee, gasoline or to help the pregnant woman with the two screaming kids fix her flat tire (true story, see illustration) is against the law.
This parade of nonsense means even though I pass the supermarket on the way to and from my local gun club, I have to first drive home, stow my guns, get back in the car and then drive back to the supermarket to do my food shopping.
When I make the expedition out to Long Island to use my shotgun, which means traveling more than 40 exits on the Long Island Expressway, I keep a bucket next to me just in case I hit traffic. I usually miss the exit anyway because the range is the only place not listed on the tourist attraction sign. I guess they forgot.
More Fun
Packing up and driving to my local club is just half the fun. When I'm walking from the car to the building, despite the fact I'm carrying two guns, they are locked up so securely if I got attacked I'd have to defend myself using nothing but harsh language, or perhaps hitting my assailant over the head with my bulging gun case.
Once inside I have to sign in by writing down my time of arrival, handgun license number, name and address. I can't bring friends here from outside of the five boroughs because licenses from other New York jurisdictions aren't honored by NYC. Of course.
The indoor Long Island range would honor my NYC license, however, as it was open to the public, it meant standing in line to surrender my driver's license and could take up to 20 minutes, depending upon how many teenagers reeking of weed were ahead of me. This was somewhat more convenient than driving to the end of the expressway, but that facility forces shooters to use their frangible and criminally overpriced ammunition. Technically I can use my shotgun there, but it's off to the outdoor range at the end of the earth if I want to train with defensive loads.
Friends?
Since I'm not allowed to stop along the way, shooting with friends at the outdoor range means meeting them there, not getting together at someone's home and sharing the remaining drive, or maybe even using the bathroom. After the 90+ minute trip I typically make a mad dash for what passes as a bathroom at the range before I even try finding the people I'm shooting with.
It takes five to ten minutes to load all of the magazines, then if the weather is cold, another five to ten minutes waiting for our re-gloved fingers to warm up. After shooting, it's back to unloading the guns and magazines and locking everything up just as I did before hitting the road in the first place. This is followed by another 90-minute pilgrimage back to the Big Sour Apple.
There's no having lunch with the boys because it's illegal to leave my gun in the car or drop it off at someone else's house, so by the time I get home my bucket is full and I'm starving. What I've been relegated to doing is leaving my shotgun behind and driving for an hour to meet up with friends. Then driving together for the remaining 30 minutes to the range, shooting my friend's guns, then driving 30 minutes back to his place to stow them, and then finally going for lunch. For these reasons the shotgun I have owned for three years has been used only once.
But hey, it probably still works. I may even shoot it again some day. Maybe.
The writer also did a previous article on the pain of becoming a gun owner in New York.
Target Practice In New YorkAmerican Handgunner | American Handgunner
A Trip To Derange
By Dave Kaplan
In the March/April 2016 issue of American Handgunner I wrote about the red tape and headaches involved with obtaining a handgun license in NYC, fancying myself an aspiring "Good Old Boy," which I meant in all the good ways. As you might expect, the hardship didn't end with finishing the bureaucratic gauntlet and finally obtaining a license and a handgun. The struggle continues each day, to where even a trip to the range becomes a logistical nightmare. There are three ranges I have used, each requiring I jump through different hoops depending on its rules and location, ensuring what should be a fun and relaxing range day — is nothing but a stressful chore.
Since there is no single gun range within a reasonable driving distance from my home where I'm allowed to shoot every gun I own, I have to pick and choose which I feel like shooting on any given day. Most ranges within the five boroughs, including my local club, don't allow shotguns, although that doesn't stop them from selling shotguns.
I can train with my handguns locally, but to train with my shotgun I have to make a trip out to Long Island, where I'm also not allowed to bring my handguns. The same Cuomological laws allow Long Islanders an adjustable stock on 12-gauge shotguns but not on .22 rifles. Likewise, semi-automatic .22 rifles with pistol grips require registration, while rifles in much larger calibers do not, provided they have a Thordsen stock. Look that one up to get a good laugh.
Derange Day
Range day begins with unloading not just my guns but my low capacity magazines, because in the existential quandary which is New York, a magazine with a round in it constitutes a loaded weapon. Each empty handgun gets a trigger lock to ensure the foam inside the gun case is completely flattened and the case itself bulges when I try closing it. Since that clearly isn't cumbersome enough, I'm also required to put a padlock on each case, which ironically helps hold it closed and prevents the trigger lock from popping it open.
Each gun I travel with means another key on my keychain and more paperwork in my range bag because, of course, I have to carry all applicable licenses and certificates of registration. Since ammunition has to be carried not only in a separate container — but in a separate part of the car, rather than use the ammunition pouches on the padded heavy duty water-resistant shotgun case that my best friend bought me for Chanukah, I just toss loose shells into a used grocery bag and throw it on the floor in the back of the car.
I've also taken to hiding the shotgun case in a garment bag and carrying it by a hanger because the locals throw red paint when they see me carrying a gun. Bet you don't have that problem?
On range day I'm always extra careful to obey traffic laws — to the letter — while cruising through Queens at the blistering posted speed of 25 mph. Due to the traffic in NYC I probably wouldn't be going much faster than that anyway. Getting pulled over with a gun in the car, even for a minor violation, would be a disaster as the "duty to inform laws" are a bit ambiguous. Surely the next morning's New York Times headline would read "Gunman with Fully Semi-Automatic Assault Pistol Leads NYPD on High Speed Pursuit."
Save for getting pulled over, while in transit with a firearm I'm not allowed to stop for any reason. Stopping for coffee, gasoline or to help the pregnant woman with the two screaming kids fix her flat tire (true story, see illustration) is against the law.
This parade of nonsense means even though I pass the supermarket on the way to and from my local gun club, I have to first drive home, stow my guns, get back in the car and then drive back to the supermarket to do my food shopping.
When I make the expedition out to Long Island to use my shotgun, which means traveling more than 40 exits on the Long Island Expressway, I keep a bucket next to me just in case I hit traffic. I usually miss the exit anyway because the range is the only place not listed on the tourist attraction sign. I guess they forgot.
More Fun
Packing up and driving to my local club is just half the fun. When I'm walking from the car to the building, despite the fact I'm carrying two guns, they are locked up so securely if I got attacked I'd have to defend myself using nothing but harsh language, or perhaps hitting my assailant over the head with my bulging gun case.
Once inside I have to sign in by writing down my time of arrival, handgun license number, name and address. I can't bring friends here from outside of the five boroughs because licenses from other New York jurisdictions aren't honored by NYC. Of course.
The indoor Long Island range would honor my NYC license, however, as it was open to the public, it meant standing in line to surrender my driver's license and could take up to 20 minutes, depending upon how many teenagers reeking of weed were ahead of me. This was somewhat more convenient than driving to the end of the expressway, but that facility forces shooters to use their frangible and criminally overpriced ammunition. Technically I can use my shotgun there, but it's off to the outdoor range at the end of the earth if I want to train with defensive loads.
Friends?
Since I'm not allowed to stop along the way, shooting with friends at the outdoor range means meeting them there, not getting together at someone's home and sharing the remaining drive, or maybe even using the bathroom. After the 90+ minute trip I typically make a mad dash for what passes as a bathroom at the range before I even try finding the people I'm shooting with.
It takes five to ten minutes to load all of the magazines, then if the weather is cold, another five to ten minutes waiting for our re-gloved fingers to warm up. After shooting, it's back to unloading the guns and magazines and locking everything up just as I did before hitting the road in the first place. This is followed by another 90-minute pilgrimage back to the Big Sour Apple.
There's no having lunch with the boys because it's illegal to leave my gun in the car or drop it off at someone else's house, so by the time I get home my bucket is full and I'm starving. What I've been relegated to doing is leaving my shotgun behind and driving for an hour to meet up with friends. Then driving together for the remaining 30 minutes to the range, shooting my friend's guns, then driving 30 minutes back to his place to stow them, and then finally going for lunch. For these reasons the shotgun I have owned for three years has been used only once.
But hey, it probably still works. I may even shoot it again some day. Maybe.
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