For those who cannot afford a .505 Gibbs then try making your own.

Take one length of galvanized pipe - I use galvanized pipe as it does not rust and retains a nice mottled finish - however one inch steel pipe will do fine and fits all cartridges. Length can be anywhere from twenty to thirty inches. No need for a bolt or ejectors as one simply has to point the barrels down (or swing them about wildly) to remove the cartridges. Bet Krieghoff wish they had thought of that?

Balsa wood is probably best for the stock as it is light and easy to work. Also I find it sticks to metal like shit to a carpet.

TIP – Don’t try this at home because it takes flipping ages to get rid of the smell.

please post videos of this gun being shot.
Thanks

Not yet in production

Aside from you, I believe most of us here can afford to buy a 505 Gibbs, like I did two years ago. Do post the video when you test fire it.

regards,

Rich

I must have missed an earlier post as this doesn't make any sense to me, but then again that is nothing new.

Ummm... I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and guess that this would probably make much more sense if it was in the Big Bore forum....

well... maybe not.

no, it would be just as stupid there as here. look at the three threads initiated by fairgame and you will notice a trend.

quote:

Originally posted by jdollar:
no, it would be just as stupid there as here. look at the three threads initiated by fairgame and you will notice a trend.

Sorry chaps wrote this as I was hoping this thread would make the top of the top ten most stupid. 505 Gibbs I hope no offence was taken and hope you can read the laughter between the lines?

With the world on a "Go Green" campaign, perhaps you could take pity on the Balsa wood trees and substitute it with polystyrene (sp), I beleive the weight comparisons would be favourable ?

Here is an extract from the book NEVER SNIFF A GIFT FISH, by my favourite write; PATRIK F. McMANUS.

The story is titled POOF- NO EYEBROWS!

"...The cannon was constructed of sewer pipe, two-by-fours, baby-carriage wheels, rubber inner tube bands, a clothespin, baling wire, and various other odds and ends, all of which, blending into a single, symmetrical unity, neared perfection on teh scale of beauty. A croquet ball was commandeered from the Sweeney backyard for use as shot. In our enthusiasm of the moment, it was thought the croquet ball could be returned to the set after it was recovered from the firing range. Alas, it was not to be.

Attired in our muskrat-skin hats, which we had sewn up ourselves, we mounted our bicycles and, with cannon in tow, set off for the local golf course, where a fairway could serve as a firing range, and the putting green as target.
As we had hoped, the gold course turned out to be deserted. We quickly wheeled the cannon into a firing position and began the loading proceedure.

"Think that is enough powder?" Retch asked.
"Better dump in some more, I adviced. "That coquet ball is pretty heavy."
"And there is some for good measure," Retch said.
The croquet ball fit a little too tightly, but we managed to ram it down the barrel.

Thern we both took up positions alongside the cannon to witness the rare and wonderful spectacle of a sewer pipe firing a croquet ball down a golf course fairway.

"Ready, aim, fire!" I commanded.
Retch tipped the firing mechanism.

Eventually, the thunder was replaced by clanging bells inside our heads, the shattered pieces of earth and sky fell back into place, and the wobbly world righted itself. Retch and I limped to teh side of a utility shed and sat down to relax a bit and collect our senses. Presently, a deputy sheriff drove up. He stood for a moment gazing at teh haze of smoke wafting gently over the golf course, the patch of smoldering turf ringed by fragments of sewer pipe, baby-carriage wheels, and pieces of two-by-four. Then, hoisting up his gun belt, he saundered over to us.

"You boys know anything about an explosion out this way?"
"What kind of explosion?" Retch asked.
"A BIG explosion."
I was so stunned I could not even think up a good lie. Anyway, I knew the deputy had us cold.
"Now, what I want to know is why are you two boys sitting out here behind thius shed?"
Shucks," I said "if you'd been here earlier, you'd seen us while we were still on fire"

Boys and their Toys !! Only us males can understand the reason we do these things !!1

This thread reminds me of how much fun Gary Huey was when I was going up. Gary had such a wonderful imagination. In particular, he thought we could see a firecracker explosion better if we set one off in a closed mayo jar. I let him put the lid on - and he almost got that lid on before the jar vaporized. The Lord watches out for drunks and fools....no blood was shed that day. But there were other days...

Patrick McManus was, next to Gene Hill, my favorite American outdoor writer (apologies to Craig B). His stuff is legendary.

Thanks for sharing.

My only attempt at a similar gunworks was to use a steel pipe as a mortar. It's amazing what you can launch into the air using a cherry bomb or M-80 as your propellent.

I gues all us southern boy used pipe and fire crackers to make mortar's. hickory nuts do fly nicely if you get your elevation right. or if you catch your older bother not watching you can been him on the head pretty good . then run like hell cause he's going to try to kick your butt

Back in the late fifties a friend had a four foot +/- length of Ford drive shaft. The bore was perfect for a beer can, back when such had a bit of structural integrity. Three two inchers and a can full of dirt would go clean out of sight.

dogcat did you say was? did McManus die?

Red

Long ago in a far away galaxy...

It was summer of 1971, and with the troop reduction in Vietnam, we got two dozen rangers from the gone-home Big Red One. Was that "Fuzzy Company"?. Anyway, the 23rd Inf was the only division with three full brigades of infantry. Marines go home from I Corps, the 101st moves up past the Hai Van Pass and onto the DMZ. Our Ranger Company, Co/G, 75th, is at full twelve six-man team strength for the first time ever. They send the 196th LIB up to Danang, and split the Company in half. Form Co 2/Co G and away we go from Chu Lai up the highway.
Anyway, we get to Danang and are assigned the First Marine Recon Bn AO and barracks area. Fifty feet down Hill from this huge Mess Hall is us, and the most beautiful Four Holer you have ever seen. I made SSG in the move, and got my own team. We paint this memorial to good Army Chow and stencil the Airborne Ranger rocker on the front.
If you haven't seen or heard, the Army in RVN built fantastic privvies. They took empty 2" rocket pod tubes (16 holes in a circular magazine) and set them into the ground about 24 inches. Surround all four sides with waist high frame, and make a side entrance. The Four Holers were awesome. Door at each end, and around the back are four half height doors, sort of like a dutch door. Inside each door is half a 55 gallon drum, with handles cut in each side. Fill them about 1/3rd full of diesel and slide them in. Every day some unlucky private or spec four got the job, "Shit Burning Detail".

Haul the four half full containers out the back, replace them with four from the day before, add diesel. Wad up a bit of toilet paper on a fence stake, and light them. Get a fire going and ease them into the diesel barrel.
It catches fire, burns the diesel and poop, hence the SBD moniker. Stir ever so often from upwind.

Sooo, one day my FNG comes in the Hootch and says "Top wants to see you". I go up to the office, and he tells me, "Kyz, we got an issue. There are rats the size of possums residing under the four-holer and raiding the garbage cans at the Mess Hall. Get rid of them.". I ask how, and he tells me "take the keys to the Explosives Conex and get some clackers and caps out.". Claymore Mines come with a 100 ft cord with a blasting cap on one end and a "clacker" on the other. The Klacker is a battery operated ignition device. Looks like a cigarette pack with a clothespin on top. Set the Claymore in position, unscrew the cap, and stick the blasting cap in and tighten down. To detonate the mine, just flip the safety bail up and squeeze. Ka-Boom! People just disappear. You get a new Klacker with each one. But used ones come in handy for lighting det cord or plastic explosives. You old guys remember C4, Flex-X, Data Sheet, all the old classics.
TOP says to get a couple Klackers and some blasting caps and go up to see the cook. I get some left over pork and go back down to the 4H with my FNG. Everybody gets a radio Codename. This guy was sooooooooooo bad, we tagged him with "Doofus". Anyway, Doof and I are sitting back of the shitter on two overturned half-barrels. I got the privilege of hauling all that good stuff because I had gone to Demolition Class back at Ranger School in the 'States.

I re-arm a Klacker with a blasting cap and set it down. I do six. I take a piece of meat about the size of a cigarette pack and wrap it around a cap and use a bit of wire to hold it in place. I do five more. I have Doof place one in front of each rathole. Rat, great big MF-ing R-A-T, comes out of the hole and grabs the meat. I hit the Klacker and blow his beady-eyed little frigging head off. Repeat X2. Doof is ecstatic! He wants to do some. I hand over the Klacker and reel in the used ones to reload. He is happy as a pig in poop.
I know how to delegate authority. I tell him to have some fun, and I go off to report to TOP how well things are going. He's sitting out front of his Hootch chewing Red Man. Or Beechnut. Or Mailbag. I sit down light up an SP Pack stogie and report. About the time I am mentally congratulating myself, he says "Is Doofus helping you?". I say yes, and he thinks maybe we need to go check on him. About the time we round the corner of his Hootch we hear a major explosion, and see the 4-holer simultaneously achieve Earth Orbit and disintegrate!

My bad! I left the Conex container unlocked and Doof had a brainstorm. He decides to go down, get a pound of C4, and wrap it around the biggest peace of meat we have. Big RAT grabs the bundle and drags it down the hole. Doof squeezes the Klacker, and a pound of C4 detonates.
It rained Shit, diesel, and a little toilet paper for about two hours. People are running around screaming "Incoming!!! and running for the bunkers. Funniest thing I ever saw! TOP laughed for five minutes, then looked at me and says "You know your ass and that rocker* now belong to the Captain!". They wanted to Courts Martial me. They wanted to shoot Doof.

One of the truly funny experiences I had there in twenty-five months and ten days.


Rich
* Rocker. When you get promoted from Sgt to Staff Sgt (SSG) you get the rocker to go under the three stripes. I think mine was on a zipper.

I have 4-5 rounds of custom loaded (Safari Arms)ammo left for my custom rifle that was so bad I sent it back to the maker...sold the rest of the ammo. PM me if you would like the ammo!!

quote:

Originally posted by Idaho Sharpshooter:
Aside from you, I believe most of us here can afford to buy a 505 Gibbs, like I did two years ago. Do post the video when you test fire it.

regards,

Rich

Really? I can't, and wouldn't if I could.