So, I just loaded 7 30rd mags, (drunk) went out to my field, lead all three horses to the stable, and fucking dumped all of them into a hay bail about 50 yds from me, as fast as I could, leaving the mags in the dirt. The barrel was so hot I'm pretty sure the still hot burn on my forefinger wont go away for quite awhile. Not a single misfeed. Not a single misfire. And though I havent even sited the rifle in yet, iron or optics, the motherfucker hit what I was aiming at. I cannot express my glee right now. Lmmfao. POWER. My country neighbors thought a war had begun. They live several hundred yrds away on each side, but the closest were on their porches watching by the time I finished and started picking up magazines. My closest neighbors, who I know, walked over grinning. God DAMN I love Texas. And I love the fucking AR-15.
I carried a sidearm every third day for 3 years in the navy. Never discharged it. Pulled 5 rounds from a Mossberg shotgun in a WTF moment during a security alert in a bad thunderstorm. Scored perfect in mandatory target shooting with a Colt 1911 in a rolling 30' sea. That was 35 years ago, and I've never touched a firearm since.