Once upon a time...
Oops, wrong story(s),
I've been doing this a while now, teaching that is. I'm well versed in the military method of teaching in order to make your own job easier. I spent decades of teaching apprentices in union trades with variable success. I've found that there is a difference between willingness to learn and ability to learn.
Won't hold zero. Or diagnosing by remote has a better than remote chance of failure.
This clean freak would shoot until his rifle fouled in then would scour the bore clean resulting in yet another copper fouling session to get consistent.
It took months of back-and-forth correspondence to find that he was carving out copper fouling after 50 rounds on a range day only to have to start over.
I don't know if I ever convinced him to leave the bore seasoned as he continued to post with the same problem after he cut off communication with me because he wasn't getting the answer he wanted. Eventually he left that forum only to appear on another where the bear pit immediately trashed him.
Same only different.
Won't return to zero after cleaning. Yet a different kind of clean freak. On the surface he appeared to have all the right information and details well in hand. This one I got to meet in person. He arrived at the firing line with portable press and measure for load development. I watched his meticulous process and shared thoughts on statistical evaluation of waterline and seating depth with interest. At the end of the day, we retreated to the attached break down and cleaning bench where I saw him remove his scope for cleaning the rifle. "I'm not going to expose $1K worth of glass to cleaning solvents!" It took a few minutes of considerate hand holding to readjust his thinking but in the end problem solved.
The new FAL owner.
I've been an amateur gun plumber for years, but I tend to specialize, usually keep my opinions to myself (unless asked), work only on my own weapons or those of close family, and give way to experience willingly.
In this case I know the FAL as well or better than most rifles and assist a new owner where I can.
Next to me on the line is a new DSA SA58 classic. You know, 21" common furniture, scope mount dustcover, nothing odd.
He is bolt over brass repeatedly. Before I can say anything, he leaves the range. This happens two more times over the summer.
One day at a work party at the range without the weapons I happen to talk to him, and he is disgusted with the rifle, DSA, and the FAL pattern in general.
I offer to help, and we show up the following weekend with our rifles. I brought an Imbel, My DSA FrankenFAL, and a Belgian.
My rifles are flawless and my shooting so so. His rifle is again bolt over brass and occasionally failure to eject.
I offer to try his rifle and immediately wind his gas adjust a full turn open. Eurica! Brass out at 2:00 7-10 feet and no more bolt over brass or failure to eject.
The look on his face wasn't surprise or even elation it was abject anger. "You lost my gas setting. How am I ever going to get it back!"
Before I can explain he is packed up and storms off the range.
Several times after that we were on the range together, but he took a lane far away from me and didn't have a word for me. I find out through the grapevine that I had caused him to send it back to DAS yet one more time for "gas adjustment" and I was a total idiot.
Finally, we were at the range together one day when the RSO calls an unexpected cease fire. He walks over to the FAL owner and tells him that there is a loud and unusual noise coming from his rifle and it needs to be looked at before he fires again. Stupefied, our hero relents and retreats to the cleaning bench where the usual Fuster cluck of self-proclaimed experts peruse his rifle's innards. Finding nothing amiss he is allowed to return to the line for a single test fire.
I hear it immediately and call "Cease Fire!" as anyone at any time can call for a cease fire here. (And I hope anywhere)
Epilog
Instead of walking over to his position I beg the RSO's patience and retreat to my truck for a few tools and proceed to access the recoil spring in my SA58.
I have to nearly beg to see our hero's recoil spring. It's a full 4 inches short. It took a bit before we all were privy to the details.
There are various different adjustable gas blocks available to the FAL. Some have limited positions and others have multiple turns available.
Our hero like me has the DSA block with multiple turns. It seems our hero had read somewhere that 7 klicks were maximum gas and if it didn't cycle there, other issues were involved. So, our kitchen table gunsmith had shortened the recoil spring to the point that recoil was battering the rifle mercilessly.
Yes, the noise I had heard was the distinctive "KLANG!" of seriously over gassed.
Again, after several minutes of considerable hand holding and explanation, I was allowed to replace his recoil spring with my own and adjust his gas properly.
Now with a running rifle the range day continued without event, save one. Our hero left without a word while I was doing shooting things.
I was mildly miffed but not terribly upset. These things happen. Good thing I took it in stride.
Months later I was advised of the winter club meeting that I had usually skipped and just read the minutes later. I was told that it may be a good idea that I attend. When the President speaks, I listen.
When the meeting came to "new business" our hero speaks up to be recognized. I had a surprise coming.
I wish I had a copy of this to share. Our hero had about 5 minutes of drop dead funny, self-deprecating stand-up humor having to deal with his treatment of a range member in general, his rifle in particular and me specifically. When he called me to the podium, I had to recover from multiple belly laughs just to get out of my seat. He first presents me with a TiN plated (gold in appearance) recoil spring. It wasn't just the spring it was how it was presented. It was compressed into a screw top can. Pop goes the weasel!
He wasn't done.
He handed a plain brown wrapper about the size of a hard cover book to me. "You have something to give me" he says. "Open it" he says. it was a plaque. "Read it he says"
Azzhat of the year award. To be given to the year's foremost and without question total azzhat. His name was engraved as the first recipient.
Teach what you learn. For without that not only is the lesson lost but the spirit of the lesson as well.
If I have learned one thing from all year's teaching students, non-rates, apprentices, and random folk it's that if I fail to learn something from them, I'm not doing it right. This man taught me humility, by example. Not in any way an easy thing to do.
Sorry for the length of the post but this came to mind while I was waiting for paint to dry. I get this way sometimes. If you keep reading, I'll keep talking.
Have a great day
Oops, wrong story(s),
I've been doing this a while now, teaching that is. I'm well versed in the military method of teaching in order to make your own job easier. I spent decades of teaching apprentices in union trades with variable success. I've found that there is a difference between willingness to learn and ability to learn.
Won't hold zero. Or diagnosing by remote has a better than remote chance of failure.
This clean freak would shoot until his rifle fouled in then would scour the bore clean resulting in yet another copper fouling session to get consistent.
It took months of back-and-forth correspondence to find that he was carving out copper fouling after 50 rounds on a range day only to have to start over.
I don't know if I ever convinced him to leave the bore seasoned as he continued to post with the same problem after he cut off communication with me because he wasn't getting the answer he wanted. Eventually he left that forum only to appear on another where the bear pit immediately trashed him.
Same only different.
Won't return to zero after cleaning. Yet a different kind of clean freak. On the surface he appeared to have all the right information and details well in hand. This one I got to meet in person. He arrived at the firing line with portable press and measure for load development. I watched his meticulous process and shared thoughts on statistical evaluation of waterline and seating depth with interest. At the end of the day, we retreated to the attached break down and cleaning bench where I saw him remove his scope for cleaning the rifle. "I'm not going to expose $1K worth of glass to cleaning solvents!" It took a few minutes of considerate hand holding to readjust his thinking but in the end problem solved.
The new FAL owner.
I've been an amateur gun plumber for years, but I tend to specialize, usually keep my opinions to myself (unless asked), work only on my own weapons or those of close family, and give way to experience willingly.
In this case I know the FAL as well or better than most rifles and assist a new owner where I can.
Next to me on the line is a new DSA SA58 classic. You know, 21" common furniture, scope mount dustcover, nothing odd.
He is bolt over brass repeatedly. Before I can say anything, he leaves the range. This happens two more times over the summer.
One day at a work party at the range without the weapons I happen to talk to him, and he is disgusted with the rifle, DSA, and the FAL pattern in general.
I offer to help, and we show up the following weekend with our rifles. I brought an Imbel, My DSA FrankenFAL, and a Belgian.
My rifles are flawless and my shooting so so. His rifle is again bolt over brass and occasionally failure to eject.
I offer to try his rifle and immediately wind his gas adjust a full turn open. Eurica! Brass out at 2:00 7-10 feet and no more bolt over brass or failure to eject.
The look on his face wasn't surprise or even elation it was abject anger. "You lost my gas setting. How am I ever going to get it back!"
Before I can explain he is packed up and storms off the range.
Several times after that we were on the range together, but he took a lane far away from me and didn't have a word for me. I find out through the grapevine that I had caused him to send it back to DAS yet one more time for "gas adjustment" and I was a total idiot.
Finally, we were at the range together one day when the RSO calls an unexpected cease fire. He walks over to the FAL owner and tells him that there is a loud and unusual noise coming from his rifle and it needs to be looked at before he fires again. Stupefied, our hero relents and retreats to the cleaning bench where the usual Fuster cluck of self-proclaimed experts peruse his rifle's innards. Finding nothing amiss he is allowed to return to the line for a single test fire.
I hear it immediately and call "Cease Fire!" as anyone at any time can call for a cease fire here. (And I hope anywhere)
Epilog
Instead of walking over to his position I beg the RSO's patience and retreat to my truck for a few tools and proceed to access the recoil spring in my SA58.
I have to nearly beg to see our hero's recoil spring. It's a full 4 inches short. It took a bit before we all were privy to the details.
There are various different adjustable gas blocks available to the FAL. Some have limited positions and others have multiple turns available.
Our hero like me has the DSA block with multiple turns. It seems our hero had read somewhere that 7 klicks were maximum gas and if it didn't cycle there, other issues were involved. So, our kitchen table gunsmith had shortened the recoil spring to the point that recoil was battering the rifle mercilessly.
Yes, the noise I had heard was the distinctive "KLANG!" of seriously over gassed.
Again, after several minutes of considerable hand holding and explanation, I was allowed to replace his recoil spring with my own and adjust his gas properly.
Now with a running rifle the range day continued without event, save one. Our hero left without a word while I was doing shooting things.
I was mildly miffed but not terribly upset. These things happen. Good thing I took it in stride.
Months later I was advised of the winter club meeting that I had usually skipped and just read the minutes later. I was told that it may be a good idea that I attend. When the President speaks, I listen.
When the meeting came to "new business" our hero speaks up to be recognized. I had a surprise coming.
I wish I had a copy of this to share. Our hero had about 5 minutes of drop dead funny, self-deprecating stand-up humor having to deal with his treatment of a range member in general, his rifle in particular and me specifically. When he called me to the podium, I had to recover from multiple belly laughs just to get out of my seat. He first presents me with a TiN plated (gold in appearance) recoil spring. It wasn't just the spring it was how it was presented. It was compressed into a screw top can. Pop goes the weasel!
He wasn't done.
He handed a plain brown wrapper about the size of a hard cover book to me. "You have something to give me" he says. "Open it" he says. it was a plaque. "Read it he says"
Azzhat of the year award. To be given to the year's foremost and without question total azzhat. His name was engraved as the first recipient.
Teach what you learn. For without that not only is the lesson lost but the spirit of the lesson as well.
If I have learned one thing from all year's teaching students, non-rates, apprentices, and random folk it's that if I fail to learn something from them, I'm not doing it right. This man taught me humility, by example. Not in any way an easy thing to do.
Sorry for the length of the post but this came to mind while I was waiting for paint to dry. I get this way sometimes. If you keep reading, I'll keep talking.
Have a great day
