When I was somewhere around 12, my Dad arranged for me to swap an aquarium set for an Ithica Featherlight 20ga. I ran all over the place with that gun. Got a rabbit once.
I recall when I was 16-17 he took me to a put and take pheasant farm in Indiana for a day. Great time. I'd never been bird hunting before. The dog flushed a pheasant and with my teenage reflexes I blasted the bird at something like 10 feet.
I can still hear the gales of laughter from my Dad.
So, I'm not a meticulous gun cleaner. I just generally go over and call it good. I haven't touched that shotgun in years.
This week I pulled it out of the safe to clean it up. I ran a patch down the barrel and it was white. I took the patch through the action and didn't find a speck of carbon or dirt.
I suddenly struck me that my Dad, who passed on years ago, had labored over that shotgun until it was meticulously clean.
All of those memories came washing over me again and suddenly I miss my Dad terribly.
Anyone have similar stories to share?
I recall when I was 16-17 he took me to a put and take pheasant farm in Indiana for a day. Great time. I'd never been bird hunting before. The dog flushed a pheasant and with my teenage reflexes I blasted the bird at something like 10 feet.
I can still hear the gales of laughter from my Dad.
So, I'm not a meticulous gun cleaner. I just generally go over and call it good. I haven't touched that shotgun in years.
This week I pulled it out of the safe to clean it up. I ran a patch down the barrel and it was white. I took the patch through the action and didn't find a speck of carbon or dirt.
I suddenly struck me that my Dad, who passed on years ago, had labored over that shotgun until it was meticulously clean.
All of those memories came washing over me again and suddenly I miss my Dad terribly.
Anyone have similar stories to share?