I was first teaching the girlfriend to shoot, when I nearly had my first coronary. I was 17. I started her on an old .22 thats been in the family. First thing was safety. I was to later find out it didn't stick. So I shoot my rounds, hand it off to her. She shoots hers. I lay the now empty rifle down and head downrange to retrieve our now mutilated junk. So as I am down at the 50 yard line picking up assorted scraps of metal, wood, and an old hubcap we found... I look back. Turns out, how to operate the damn thing... DID STICK. Im now staring down the rather miniscule, but menacing nontheless, barrel of my .22. Turns out, she thought it would be pretty funny to try and hit me with a .22 round because "They'd just bounce off anyways you asshole!"...yeah, right. After all, how much could a 22LR hurt? She wasnt too happy when I pulled out my best Gunnery Sgt. Hartman impression and came storming uprange at a full trot, all the while explaining firearm safety in a manner she will never forget. So, to make a semi-long story short, all our friends are afraid of going shooting... And thats the way it should be. NW