New Hudson — You hardly ever see guys in their forties hanging out and having fun together. Middle-aged men are receding from the social landscape.
So my good friend and Michigan Enjoyer colleague James Dickson and I decided to buck the trend and kill an afternoon doing the perfect bro activity: shooting guns on a range.
We met at the Huron Valley Gun Range. It was a big day for both of us: He’d never before shot a firearm, and I recently obtained a brand-new Sons of Liberty AR-15. Two guns are better than one, and I brought along a Walther PDP 9mm.
For me, walking into Huron Valley is like a kid walking into Toys “R” Us. Long guns of all make and model adorn the walls and endless racks of small arms line secure glass cases.
Dickson’s eyes widened when he crossed the threshold. He had only one word to say: “Wow.”
The range, in a word, is professional. Range masters in red shirts keep a close eye on each lane and shooter. Multiple cameras watch each lane, and instructions are posted to keep all firearms pointed down range at all times.
Feeling the weight of the fully loaded AR-15 in my hands, I fired a few rounds downrange at the target, getting a sense of the slight recoil and heavy stopping power.
Passing it over, Dickson held it like the flame of knowledge handed down by Prometheus. He turned downrange, firing a few rounds before looking back at me with an expression I’m unable to fully describe. He looked different somehow. Newer, more alive, stronger. He tried to pass the AR-15 back to me, but I waved him on.
“Keep going!” I yelled. I was having more fun watching him shoot than actually shooting. He leaned in.
We switched up guns, and Dickson fired the 9mm down range for the first time. “I’m getting one,” he yelled back to me with a smile from ear to ear as the higher-pitched rounds kicked back a much stronger recoil.
We switched back and forth, taking turns shooting down range, trying to hit various targets, until completely blasting one target-holder off the stand. Sheepishly grinning as the range master replaced the holder, we yelled, “we’re so back” to each other while smelling burnt powder and hot steel.
We’re so back—an oft-used reference, had a different meaning for me here. We were doing something invigorating to our souls as men. The sort of thing men used to do before America turned into a rules-based-order that frowns on most masculine activities, relegating men to the golf course or the barstool.
Shooting firearms, specifically an AR-15, feels rebellious in our current culture. We have the right to safely do it in controlled settings, but our political elites don’t like it. Like teenagers doing exactly what their parents told them not to do, if for no other reason to break free, men shooting at a range is a form of freedom-seeking.
Our adventure over, we parted ways exiting the range and made plans to go shooting again soon. Walking to my car, I briefly turned back to see Dickson walking toward his car.
The man looked two inches taller. He was walking tall.
J.Z. Delorean is a writer for Michigan Enjoyer and has been a Metro Detroit-based professional investigator for 22 years. Follow him on X @Stainless31.
