Gun Story.
I was in my early 20s and working for a civil engineering company in Hamilton Ontario. We were building the 403 highway west from Hamilton up the escarpment to Ancaster.
We worked out of a very large "field office" near the golf course at the start of the job. It was on a residential street with houses on the opposite side of the road.
This "office" was made out of three prefabed buildings joined end to end. The first was an office, the second was for storage and contained an oil burning stove, the third was a lunchroom. As the story goes on make sure you remember the stove.
My boss was from Yugoslavia and was a total gun nut. One day he bought a hand gun to work and set up a target in the lunchroom. He then went into the front ofice and from a distance of about 35 feet dropped 5 or six shots right into the center of the target.
He then asked me if I had ever fired a gun, I said "no". Encouraged by my experience he loaded the gun and handed it to me. Squeeze the trigger slowly was all he said.
First two shots lodged in the back wall and the third shot blew the stack off the stove. Shots 4, 5 and 6 never happened.
Every time I think of this I start humming Eric Clapton's" I Shot The Sheriff", substituting "Stove" for "Sheriff".
