I don't believe I am violating a confidentiality standard by posting this. I wrote it to a new friend, and I will not be mentioning his name. He was telling me that he was really starting to get into one of his vintage firearms, because he could just picture it hunting moose and big bear in the NW Territories...

I don't even know where in the back of my remaining mind it came from but on reflection, believe it starts to get at the heart of why I love rifles...

I hope no one thinks it totally senile, but then, maybe it is. Either way, it explains much of me.



"I think you've rediscovered what shooting is all about. There is a romance to the sport that is entirely missing from many lives these days.

"I guess that is the main reason I have so many books on the shooting sports as well as over 100 rifles. I never got over being a little boy and reading the original adventures of the Livingston trek through then unexplored "darkest" Africa, and Stanley's following trek to "find" him. "Dr. Livingston, I presume?" were words known by every adventuring young man's soul in the English-speaking world in those days. Rifles kept Stanley's troop alive while searching for Livingston, both with food and safety from hostile tribesmen.

"And of course I was a great fan of Sgt. Preston of the NW Mounted Police (and "his wonder dog, King") on the radio, even though I was already too old to justifiably have been listening to that stuff.

"I remember events such as when I got my first dial telephone...and was offended to get it. What was the world coming to where a person could just dial up anyone and invade their privacy?

"And it was so impersonal...before that you didn't need to know a person's "phone number". You told the operator who you wanted to talk to and she probably knew where he (or she) was at that time of day, even if he or she wasn't home. If it was your girl friend and the operator didn't hook you up, you knew it was probably because she knew where she was alright, but didn't want to tell you she was out on a date with another guy...

"Real folks traveled by horse, carried a .30-30, and maybe a Peacemaker, and actually went to see their friends quite regularly.

"Guns are my cues to "transport" back to that world I knew and loved."

Alberta

My earliest memories of scent were from firearms and Lilacs as a very young child.

My father used to use an oil (and I have no idea what it was and he has passed so I cant ask) It smelled like a tangerine or a citris fruit of some sort. Amoung other gun oils especially Hoppes #9 no doubt.

The lilacs grew in every neighbors yard where I lived. Still love that scent today.

But that rifle scent I could never place and to this day I smell just about every rifle I pick up just to see if it sparks that area of my childhood memory, I guess those were the happiest times of my Innocent young youth.


Thats why I love rifles.



Cal30

U mean like going on hunting in Africa in the backyard with your BB gun. Dam those man eating squirrels.

Because that all your Dad, his freinds and your older brothers talked about was hunting trapping and the out doors.

Reading or just looking at the pictures in outdoor life American riflemen from the time you could pick one up by yourself.

Or the passing into man hood being responsble to own and carry your own rifle/shotgun.

So many things so many memories.

Thats why I love firearms not just rifles.

and the times when a kid would take his 22 on his bike and ride out of town for a mile to shoot gophers or the like. nobody thought anything of it. today - they;d have a bowel impaction

I even remember when having a gun in the back window of your truck at school wasn't a crime. I shot a lot of birds and small game after school was let out. Plus the doors were unlocked and you never had anything stolen out of your pickup.

quote:

Originally posted by taylorce1:
I even remember when having a gun in the back window of your truck at school wasn't a crime. I shot a lot of birds and small game after school was let out. Plus the doors were unlocked and you never had anything stolen out of your pickup.

I took a shotgun to school on the bus to spend the weekend at my buddys house.

All I was told was lock it in your locker for the day.

That was before I had a drivers lic or a vehicle to use.

AC,
It is like time travel to smell Hoppes, have 4831 combustion carried back into your face by a faint air current on a still day, smell the walnut when you open the safe or find a 40 year old pair of favorite boots in the closet that you just can't throw away....

So far nobody has mentioned Martin and Osa Johnson! Congorilla and Borneo. How bout Trader Horn?
Nice thread,AC. roger

When I was 11 I wanted a pellet gun to replace my 'Red Rider' because I was going after bigger game and needed to shoot longer distances. It's all I wanted for Christmas. Two weeks before Xmas, under the tree was a gun wrapped in Xmas paper, no box. I looked at the tag and it was from my mother to my father!!! I stared at it for two weeks or a lifetime. On Xmas day as my father got around to opening it, (about 10 hours after we started opening present, it seemed) I was tranfixed on it. Dad started to peel the wrapping away and then said " Oh I think there's been a mistake, I think this is yours, Tom". I still have it, all the seals are gone. Over time I bought two other Benjamin's to use as parts guns to keep it shooting. The newer Benjamins didn't have the good sights. I finely retired it when I was in my late 20's. I'm now 70 and I still pick it up now and then and remember all the joy it brought me and money, I got 10 cents a black bird or grackle from Dad. I was the neighborhood control hunter. We ate all the squirrels. This is why I love my rifles.....Tom

One of my firest toys was a WWII reject carbine stock. Must have been in '44. When i was older we played "Army Games" with bring back M98 and Carcanos. We used to put our .22s across the handle bars of our bikes and go west of town for rabbits.
All that area is long gone to housing and even speedway.
Hoppe's and lindeed oil are tow of my favorite things.

cal30 1906 -

Funny you should mention your very first memory...

Mine, interestingly enough, is of shooting and of my dog. Not a gun, but a bow my dad made for me, and arrows he also made. I don't remember the kind of tree limb the bow was made from, but I remember he made the arrows from strips of lath left over from when he, my mom and I all worked together to build our first "owned" home...in the desert outside Phoenix, Arizona. (My "job" was to hold one end of a board in place while my dad nailed the other end in its place.) The arrow fletching was chicken feathers.

I would shoot those arrows into what at the time seemed to be a huge cactus, and my dog "Ringo" would run over and pull them out and bring them back to me. I was 2-1/2 years old. Ring was just about 6 months old.

That dog and I grew up together. When I went off into the Pacific in the Army, of course he stayed home. When I was 19 I finally got to come home on leave and Ring was there waiting for me, but deathly ill. He had horrible cancer, and stank so bad as a result that hardly anyone but me and my dad would go near him. My dad said he (Ring) had been in bad pain, but seemed determined to hang onto life for some reason, as if he knew I was coming home alive and wanted to see me.

My dad just couldn't bring himself to put Ring down because he knew I was flying home as rapidly as Military Transport would bring me.

Anyway, Ring was so happy to see me he actually managed to stand up and very weakly wag his tail...turns out that was the first time in more than a week he had managed to stand up at all. Then he died, within minutes. And I wished I had gone with him. (Part of me surely died with him.)

I was all of six years old when I got my first rifle and my first whif of Hoppe's # 9. Now if I can just find a girl that likes Hoppe's better than perfume.

I can absolutely relate to the memories sparked by the smell of #9. Reminds me of shooting with my uncles when I was in elementary school.

And I can completely attest to the romance walnut and blued steel can bring. It's just something I don't get out of any of my handguns or any longarm in a synthetic stock.

AC, mon frere, you got me good with the story of Ring.

Because I had a mom like Ralphie...

" you'll put your eye out kid..."

quote:

Originally posted by butchloc:
and the times when a kid would take his 22 on his bike and ride out of town for a mile to shoot gophers or the like. nobody thought anything of it. today - they;d have a bowel impaction

I use to shoot NRA smallbore in the Basement of Island Trees HS on L.I.

I would load the trunk for an evening of practice or a day of shooting and no one thought a thing about it. I was also the neihborhood squirrel dispatcher. Now on L.I. NY, you would be a terrorist.

For Me it was shooting BB guns, then pellet rifles, .22's and an old 12ga. upstate NY in the summer. Days and weeks were spent hunting and shooting. I have every gun from that time. I just wish I could saw the same for the people.

well i guess it all started with my dad, a great man, he was a town fireman, worked 24 on and 24 off. I grew to a young age and watched my dad shoot and hunt. i loved going with my dad out in the woods. I guess i was 7 or 8 when i saw my dad buy a colt AR-15 from a hardware store here in town. at that time i had no idea what it was. i knew he had some guns already in the closet, but i really didnt know what they were. i watched him load and shoot. Well my dad died when I was 10. i knew he left me all his fire arms. come to find out they were M1A1-308, M1 30-06, 30 CAL. CARBIN, COLT AR-15, and a SWEET 16 BROWNING SHOTGUN. I Still have all those today. My mom bought Me my first handgun when i turned 16 A S&W MODEL 10 .38 Since then i have bought many long guns and handguns. SO YEA I HAVE A LOVE FOR FIREARMS. I am now getting my grandkids into shooting and hunting, I am 49 Years old now , and have been reloading for 33 years now. My youngest grand baby boy 19 months old is running through the house now pointing a play gun at me going pow-pow

quote:

I use to shoot NRA smallbore in the Basement of Island Trees HS on L.I.

I also shot in the basement of the old Silverking school in Smelterville Idaho while I was in USMC JROTC, In high school I believe when the weather is bad on the outside range they still do it. And that was in 1983-1985.


Cal30

My Dad did not hunt, but he did fish. I was born with the desire to hunt in my system and have never strayed from that path. I feel most alive when hunting or fishing and would not have it any other way.

...the smell of a paper shotgun shell on a cold morning. Ive never known anything like it.

Nice memories..

I recall beeing 11 first time I shot a submachine gun, an MP-38..been shooting for 40 years know..

The hobby has gotten me through some hard periods of life..

And before the internet and the forums we simply went outside and shot real guns

quote:

Nice memories

... indeed.

i remember in the early 70's my younger brother and i would get my mother to take us out to the family farm at daylight. we would terrorize the local fauna until lunchtime. she would pick us up and drop us off at a grocery store so we could grab something to eat. we would both walk around the store with our S&W 22 pistols on our hips and nobody gave us a second look. we were in our mid teens.

p dog shooter..a buddy of mine would bring his 22 to school on the bus on friday and stick it in his locker...ride another bus home with a friend and hunt at his place all weekend..then bring the gun back to school on monday and ride his bus back to his house. nobody worried about it at all.

quote:

Originally posted by 458Win:
And before the internet and the forums we simply went outside and shot real guns

That's not a gun, THAT'S A GUN.

458Win ----- Phil, I just have to know about the rifle on your shoulder in the picture. I do alright until I get to the extended magazine and then the questions come. Good shooting.

.303 Lee Speed

Scroll right down to the relevant section. Also came in 8x50R I believe. There is an entire sub-culture attached to these rifle.

http://www.imfdb.org/wiki/Shor...ms_Lee-Speed_Sporter

Nice thread A.C.!

When I was eight years old (42 years ago) I pleaded with my dad to take me deer hunting. He was real reluctant but finaly gave in. I was hoplessly hooked from that time on. I remember getting carried away with the .22 and shooting up a bunch of his ammo while he was out hunting. He just gave me a look and carried on.. Oops..! That was a great year.

Great memories, great moments and great comeraderi. Most of those guys from that time are either gone or do not hunt anymore for various reasons. Dad is still around but cant even get too far from the house because of emphesima. But the memories remain, and hiking around in the hills with nostalgic rifles never fails to take me back to a better time. You touched on the biggest reason that I still love to hunt and am a certifiable rifle nut.

guys.....unlike most of the stories of fathers taking young boys squirrel hunting or fishing or plinkung ,,my father was a bookmaker(italian offtrack betting assc.) so i got none of that ,,every day he hung out with his friends in a bar in the north end just like the movie a bronx tale,,,he played cards every day ,smoked,drank scotch ,dressed up nice so i by right shouldnt no the difference between forend tips and steak tips ,,but somehow i do ,,unlike my father i also tend to collect and learn intesively about everything i do,,rifles,photography,flyfishing,golf,and as always the equipment has to be the finest and the one thing i can count on is that i always come back to my rifles be it my rigbys,sedgleys ,griffins, mausers etc. as they give me some good satisfaction to own and shoot as well as talk about here on the web ....so im still trying to figure out where it comes from ......paul

I read through all these great memories and remember my own, my father taking my brother and I out with us having BB guns and he with a 22 in southern California. That's where I learned "muzzle awareness" as gospel. Loved going shooting with Dad and hunting everything. I loved holding his 30-40 Krag that he sporterized, I thought it was beautiful and couldn't wait till I had my own. Now I share it all with my 4 children and they all know how to shoot and 3 of them love to hunt. That said, after reading all these responses I hope you all are as dedicated to making sure our children and our children's children have the opportunities we all cherish. If you haven't taken a political stand then you have relinquished your obligation to pass on what you have cherished so much. Don't just talk the talk, walk the walk. Support with your time, energy and wallet.

AC and I had a great conversation about the joy of shooting via pm and it caused me to pause and consider the act or firing any firearm.

This afternoon I finally made it to the range with my 300 HH p64 M70 with a Weaver K1.5 post reticle and 40- rounds, my first hand loads. The experience was exhillerating.

My first stop was the 50-yard range. Already bore sighted it took just 3-4 shots to get the poi where I wanted it to be. I then moved to 100-yards. This was where everything my father had taught me about shooting and I began to focus on the basics. Instead of dialing up the power and firing the low power glass and post forced me to focus on the bull, the center of which was barely visible at 100-yards, and really concentrate on the shot. The more I shot, the better the groups. Seems logical, right? But like too many I have become too reliant on the power of my scope instead of relying on the skills my father taught me 40+ years ago.

After 20-rounds it was time to stop for the day. My 220-gr hand loads are pretty stiff and I was starting to flinch. I was at the point where I was shooting 2" groups at about 10 o'clock just outside of the bull. Gooe enough for a clean kill on deer sized game. But I know, with time and practice, I can shoot a little better and more consistently. And that was the "a-ha" moment: I remembered that becoming a good shot takes time and practice and is most of the fun.

I'll head back out tomorrow and have some more fun. When I get comfortable at 100-yards I'll move to 200-yards and try shooting at a paper plate. When I get consistent hitting that I'll be happy.

nostalgic. I remember my dad and me back in the early 60's visiting an ole swede in Eureka, fella was a gold miner. Night time vising late with Coleman lantern and him and my dayd talking. The guys old .30/40 Krag by the door and I was tired awaiting the morning hunt with my dad for moose. The following morning my dad and I got up early and he had his coffee and me my chocolate. He had a little Metropolitan that he obviously liked so we got in and he set his .375 HH pre-64 in the back. What struck me more was how intent he was when he spotted a bull and how quickly he had changed. He made his shot and it took quite awhile I remember but we loaded what seemed to be all of the moose on the hood and in that little car.
These hunts I remember consisted of his pre-64's and his pre-29 44.
Most if not all of my rifle are old but good and each one has now at least a story or two or more of what it took part in and where and chances are it was in just as beautiful of a spot as it was when I was a kid being with my dad.
I do now have one of his pre-64's, a .338 and his pre-29 4".....it is good to recall the good days gone.

quote:

Originally posted by p dog shooter:
U mean like going on hunting in Africa in the backyard with your BB gun. Dam those man eating squirrels.

Because that all your Dad, his freinds and your older brothers talked about was hunting trapping and the out doors.

Reading or just looking at the pictures in outdoor life American riflemen from the time you could pick one up by yourself.

Or the passing into man hood being responsble to own and carry your own rifle/shotgun.

So many things so many memories.

Thats why I love firearms not just rifles.

Small Dixie Cups and empty shot shells spring upon you from almost any where in my back yard.
Only a well place shot under pressure could stop them!

another memory popped up

at my school library in the 8th grade they had a magazine rack. every month the new outdoor life, field and stream, and sports afield magazines would show up. we(the guys) would damn near murder each other to be the first to get to read the latest editions. nowadays, there would be hell to pay if a school offered a magazine featuring a "blood sport" to such young children.