Become A Wiser, More Profitable Investor

✅   What We Lose When We're Priced Out of Our Hobbies

Culture

The first time I shot a clay pigeon, it disappeared. I was 12 years old, at a local gun club, where my mother had driven me so I could try my hand at “sporting clays.” Meant to simulate hunting, the sport takes place in forests and fields and involves walking from one station to another to shoot—imagine golf, but with guns. That afternoon, I called “Pull” at the first station, and a disc flashed bright orange across the Pennsylvania sky. Tracking the clay clumsily with the barrel of my 12-gauge, I squeezed the trigger, felt the recoil dig sharply into my shoulder, and then watched as the pigeon up and vanished.

The Atlantic     Apr 19, 2025