Nor was his new ability limited to his understanding of the mechanics of guns. On the firing range, whether with handguns or rifles, Ranny again led the pack. So good was his performance in that aspect that, despite his poor record otherwise, the brass tried hard to get him to re-enlist, seeing a future for him if another armed conflict broke out somewhere in the world. As such an excellent marksman, perhaps as a sniper, Ranny would have been a real asset to the army. But his hatred for authority, ever-present in the military with him at the bottom of the ladder, overrode his love for guns and Ranny refused to be persuaded to stay in.
However, after a couple of years working at the Cow Palace, Ranny had saved some money, and he started remembering that one enjoyable part of his service experience. He dropped a few hints about wanting to pick up a gun, "for home protection" he said, to one of his less-savory former school classmates, and a month later got a furtive phone call arranging a meeting in the neighborhood park. When the two conspirators had secured a table well away from the groups of kids and mothers at play in the park, the friend hunched over closer to Ranny and asked, "You were in the Army. Would an M-16 interest you?"
"An M-16? A military gun? Where in hell would I get a gun like that?" Ranny asked incredulously.
"Just so happens that some local homeboys knocked off an armory over in the Central Valley a while back, and they're having problems unloading those guns. Everybody wants a Glock or other handgun. They're asking a lot for an M-16, but they're getting desperate and I think I can get you one pretty reasonably," the would-be dealer confided.
So Ranny named the top price he was willing to pay for one of his old loves, and a week later a second phone call arranged an even more secretive meeting where the exchange was made, cash for a carbine and ammunition. The delivery was made in a long cardboard box which, if one believed the brightly-colored pictures and text on the outside, contained a cheap guitar. Ranny suspected that it had belonged to one of the homeboys' kids, but it aroused no suspicions when he carried it home and he used that as a storage place in his small apartment, concealing it under his bed.
Having no desire to show up at a commercial firing range with this stolen military weapon, Ranny waited months before he could take four days off work. He stowed the guitar box in his car's trunk, left a little before dawn, and headed southeast, driving carefully at the speed limit all day until he reached the Mojave Desert. He'd brought a sleeping bag and slept in the car, awakening stiffly at dawn. He drove further out into the desert, taking one of the many unpaved trails, watching the landscape for a suitable spot, and watching too for any other adventurers or any Park Ranger vehicles. When he crested the brow of a small hill, he knew he'd found the perfect spot.