In 1957 when I was 7 years old, my grandad and my mother got into a really heated argument about grandad buying me a .410 shotgun.
Up till then all I had ever shot was dads .22 rifle. I was really excited about getting the .410 and was pretty happy about grandad winning the argument with mother. Right up till the first time I shot it. BOY was that an eye opener.
Needless to say I was real picky about what I shot with it.
But I guess looking back on it now, it probably was the biggest contributor to my safety with a gun. All I remember about the old gun was how bad it kicked me every time I shot it, but I wanted to hunt bad enough that I just kept putting up with the recoil, until I got big enough, that it didn't bother me.
My grandad was kind of a Mans Man, if you know what I mean, so I wouldn't have complained to him about the recoil, no matter what.
