The Nerd's Eye View

In an effort to expand my horizons I actually listened to Cpt Excitment and went to Fremont. I normally wouldn't be caught dead in Fremont, but the captain had found his old recurve and was itching to try it out again. The sport was archery, the time was after work, and the magic was all around as myself, Cpt Excitment, Cpt Patience and Fat'n'Happy strolled into an archery pro shop/range. The shop part seemed quite small, but the staff of one was extremely helpful in the way that members of small recreational sub-cultures tend to be (presumably in an effort to bring more people into the sport). We rented our time and went to the range, which was a long room with cardboard padding blocks at the far end where you could tape your target sheet. On either side of us were "the regulars" who could be distinguished by their banter, their disdain for neophytes like us, and their incredible complex and expensive-looking compound bows.

Their bows bristled with extra bells and whistles; stabilizers that looked like miniature gatling guns mounted on the leading edge of the bow, side stabilizers as could be found on a tripod, and various range finding sights and assorted doo-hickeys. Altogether quite forbidding, and no doubt unrecognizable to an archer from the any time before the last 50 years. These were not for nought though, as the regulars seemed to have unerring aim, coupled with impressive power and speed. This was in stark contrast to us with our shaky arms and our ability to just barely hit the broad side of a barn.

Jokes about summer camp notwithstanding, archery is much more difficult than it looks. You gain a lot of respect for the archers of "olde" who made some sort of livelihood at it, and managed to remain unscathed (except of course for the Amazons who did it to themselves). I did not manage to remain unscathed, and indeed my left forearm is quite bruised right now from where the bowstring kept striking it, although much higher up than the guard that we borrowed covered. I was not a bad shot overall, but kept letting my concentration slip - hence the bruised forearms. Cpt Excitment of course was the best shot, and it helped that was the only one who could properly pull his 50lb bow. The rest of us looked like suitors for Penelope, and it's lucky that we didn't have to restring the bow because that could have taken all night. The regulars cleared out from around us, and retired to the shop to talk and avoid getting hurt by errant arrows. For a moment they seemed to be wiser than we thought, as we had a few misfires that had the arrow drop to the ground as the bow string struck an arm - very Wile E. Coyote. Still it got us as excited about the prospect of perhaps getting bows of our own and forming a band of Dour Men who would take from the rich and pretty much that's it. So if you hear about a group of four guys running around the Bay Area, sticking up BMW driving chumps, then you'll know.