1976, on my 9th birthday. My dad got me a single shot 410 from a pawn shop, reblued it and sanded and poly'd the stock. Still a beautiful shooter. Its still in the family. I gave it to my son when he was 10 or 11. He's got it in a safe for his son when he's a bit older.
We called it the "Red Rider Wars"!! Back in the mid 50's, neighboring kids would chose up sides and have a war, with BB guns!! Talk about dumb kids, and we thought that was fun!! The worst injury I can remember was getting my fingernail shot off, I guess the BB hit me under the finger nail, and took the whole thing off! I understand I was somewhat reckless as a kid, dad told me once I would never live to be 21!!
So, how old are you?
I was 5 years old when my dad cradled the family heirloom 12ga., pointed it at an old rotten tree and let me pull the trigger. With a mighty roar, an explosion sent tree bark flying in every direction. I was hooked. A sad ending to the story is the old shotgun that my great grandad purchased in Texas en route to Indian territory and passed down 4 generations to me was stolen by some punk kids never to be seen again.
Oh, that's too bad. Out of your house, car, where?
Broke into my house. The shotgun was a wall hanger, long since retired. Still functioned but hadn't been fired since I went into the service. What made my blood boil is the thieves tried to still my tv and dropped it on the living room floor but they left a big hand print right on the TV screen and the cops wouldn't even do fingerprints. They didn't value the stolen items high enough to warrant an investigation. To me the shotgun was priceless, to them it was petty theft.
Irritating !
First handgun I fired was my grandfather's .32 revolver,,,
But the first rifle I fired was an 8mm Mauser.
We had a family friend who went deer hunting every year,,,
His rifle was an 8mm Mauser with a beautiful custom inlaid stock.
One box of 20 rounds lasted him 4 years,,,
Three shots before the hunt to ensure the scope was still true.
One, maybe two shots to bring home the venison.
One year he took me with him to do his ritual sight-in,,,
He took two shots and was happy,,,
He let me take the third shot.
It was off a bench at 100 yards,,,
I stood behind the bench and aimed that monster rifle,,,
No one was more surprised than me when I hit the center X of the target.
He cut the target down and gave it to me,,,
Along with the empty 8mm case,,,
I saved them as treasures.
This would have been 1958-59,,,
I still had the target and case in a box of childhood stuff,,,
Unfortunately the May 3rd, 1999 Tornado in Moore, OK took it along with my sister's house.
Later that year my Grandfather took me rat hunting at the local dump,,,
He had a Marlin .22 semi-auto and let me shoot at several rats,,,
I did manage to hit one but was very disappointed in it,,,
He wouldn't let me take it home to be stuffed.
I mean his walls were covered with animal heads and stuffed carcasses,,,
Why he wouldn't do the same for my "trophy rat" was a mystery.
Aaahh,,, Memories
Aarond
.
But the first rifle I fired was an 8mm Mauser.
We had a family friend who went deer hunting every year,,,
His rifle was an 8mm Mauser with a beautiful custom inlaid stock.
One box of 20 rounds lasted him 4 years,,,
Three shots before the hunt to ensure the scope was still true.
One, maybe two shots to bring home the venison.
One year he took me with him to do his ritual sight-in,,,
He took two shots and was happy,,,
He let me take the third shot.
It was off a bench at 100 yards,,,
I stood behind the bench and aimed that monster rifle,,,
No one was more surprised than me when I hit the center X of the target.
He cut the target down and gave it to me,,,
Along with the empty 8mm case,,,
I saved them as treasures.
This would have been 1958-59,,,
I still had the target and case in a box of childhood stuff,,,
Unfortunately the May 3rd, 1999 Tornado in Moore, OK took it along with my sister's house.
Later that year my Grandfather took me rat hunting at the local dump,,,
He had a Marlin .22 semi-auto and let me shoot at several rats,,,
I did manage to hit one but was very disappointed in it,,,
He wouldn't let me take it home to be stuffed.
I mean his walls were covered with animal heads and stuffed carcasses,,,
Why he wouldn't do the same for my "trophy rat" was a mystery.
Aaahh,,, Memories
Aarond
.
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Pretty young ... my late father was a police officer and he finally gave in and took me and my brother to range. He wanted to discourage me from wanting to shoot SO he gave me his Colt Combat Commander (that some years later, I had the late great Austin Behlert work his magic on). I loved it.
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