I’m not the most emotional of gun bloggers. It might have something to do with my love life, which resembles nothing so much as a train wreck. OK two train wrecks. (And that’s just counting marriages.) I know it’s not in my commercial interest to remain silent on my emotional odyssey. Surfers gravitate to bloggers who bare their soul to strangers like fifty-something firearms journalists gravitate to hot Israeli girls. See what I mean? It makes me uncomfortable too. Anyway, anyone who spends 10 hours a day seven days a week hammering on a keyboard will eventually feel the need to share his f-f-f-f-feelings. Sigh. At the risk of going all Carrie Bradshaw, I really miss my gun . . .
Don’t get me wrong. I have a deep and abiding respect for my carry piece: a Glock 30SF.
I can bring my Glock out of its Raven Concealment Kydex holster in the blink of a [very slow] eye. I can hit what I’m aiming at with 2″ accuracy up to ten yards out. Or empty all 11 rounds center mass in less than two seconds up to five yards out. I can move and shoot without hesitation, deviation or repetition [too tight a group].
The 30SF fires a big ‘ole bullet with plenty o’ stopping power. It hasn’t malfed once through thousands of rounds firing any number of ammo brands. It’s easy to clean. I can use it at night (Trijicon sights). Hell I don’t even mind its form-follows-functions looks.
Bottom line: I bet my life on my Glock 30SF every day. And the life of my daughter. Not just when she’s with me. I depend on my gun to keep me alive so I can raise my youngest daughter, as I do, on my own.
I respect my Glock to infinitely [sic] and beyond. But I don’t love it. I love my Caracal.
You know how it feels the first time you hug an ideal lover/future owner of half of your [remaining] fortune? Not to get all sexual about it (much), the second you press together it’s like a key slotting into a lock. That’s how it feels everytime I wrap my hand around the C. It fits.
The Caracal C’s design places my hand towards the front of the gun; think of it as a mid-engined Glock. Call me a ballistic cyborg, but I become one with the gun. Point shooting? All day long. Left hand? Right hand? Look ma no hands! JK. But you get my drift.
Unlike the heavy-ass .45 caliber Glock that tries to put my pants on the ground (pants on the ground) the 9mm C sits on my hip like a parrot perching on a pirate’s shoulder. Without the poop.
Wait. This isn’t a gun review. It’s a love letter. Actually, it’s not that either. It’s a tragic tale of a gun owner and his ideal gun separated by . . . lawyers.
As some of you may recall, Caracal recalled the C. To wit this via carcacal-usa.com:
Caracal USA, LLC is advising its customers that it has determined that the production tolerances in the grip frames of a very limited number of Caracal F and C pistols could possibly cause these pistols to fire if dropped onto a hard surface with a round in the chamber.
I wouldn’t mind taking the risk on the drop safety issue. In theory. In practice, I can’t carry the C. If I deployed it during a defensive gun use the DA could find out that I knew the handgun was “defective” and carried it anyway. Not good.
Even worse: Caracal hasn’t sent me the coffin—I mean, posting box to send back the gun. So there she is, in my gun safe. Gazing upon her sleek sides is like looking at a loved one in a coma. We can’t hang out together. We can’t go out for a bite to eat or pick-up Lola from school. We can’t have fun at the range. We can’t dance. Oh, how we loved to dance!
Like a Lifetime movie, it gets even worserer.
In an effort to minimize the inconvenience to our customers, Caracal USA, LLC will exchange all affected pistols with brand new ones to avoid the delay associated with repairing and returning the pistols.
Shipment of these new replacement pistols is expected to begin in late December 2012, and to be completed by January 2013. Shipment of the replacement pistols will be made in the order in which the pistols were returned to Caracal USA, LLC.
Nooooooo! The trigger! OMG! The trigger!
Of all the things I love about the Caracal, her trigger tops the list. (Considering the joy and efficacy of her Quick Sights that’s saying something.) The C’s go-pedal’s got a short take-up, a light pull and then, well, let’s just say Nick Lowe would be smitten. As I am.
Was? Aye there’s the rub. Will the, gulp, new gun’s trigger be as responsive as the old gun’s? Will Caracal’s lawyers go one step further and force the gunmaker to increase the trigger pull and monkey around with the mechanicals so the C loses its sublime feedback and controllability?
If I didn’t have to I wouldn’t risk it. No. I’d keep this gun forever. Alas we must part. We were not meant to be, this Caracal and me. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
And here’s what I don’t tell her: I want her replacement. Bad. Like, now. Is that wrong of me? I suppose not. The C is, after all, just a gun. But I can’t help but feel . . . dirty. No, that’s not it. Horny.
Like I said, ew. Hey you asked. Didn’t you?
ALSO: Caracal USA tells me they’re introducing a .40 version of the C and F with Quick Sights at SHOT. And a carbine.