Little more than I was expecting to type lol
Hmm, I guess there's more to it than I thought before I pushed the reply button.. I grew up in a family that didn't like guns. Guns were bad and they were for bad people, which I guess would make sense in a country where every single civilian owned gun was very illegal and more than likely belonged to a yakuza member. My parents along with the rest of my family were raised in Japan (where guns have been illegal since ww2) my parents being the first of both sides to venture across the pond. They lived in Cali for almost 10 yrs which, between politics and SoCal gangbangers, def did not help their view of guns. They did go to a range one time while they were there but after my mother accidentally put a hole in the ceiling and dropped the gun on the floor, they were done with guns
. As a result, I was never exposed to guns. I think I had one toy gun growing up and it wasn't even close to my favorite toy. Maybe cause it didn't shoot anything, idk.
My first exposure to shooting anything was when I was hit by a rubber band in 1st grade by a classmate and I shot it back at him. I got him right in the forehead 1st try and it was very satisfying. I went on to making bows and arrows out of bamboo my best friend and I found in the woods and shot at paper plate targets. In retrospect, we did pretty good with some crap bows I even got a squirrel once. The arrows were actually pretty good, light and flew straight. But these got boring after a while and then a few years later at 16 got my first air soft gun and if it weren't for having friends who liked doing other things I could've sat there and shot at cigarette butts and bbs on the ground all day. I got into playing air soft with some friends in the woods team death match style and i was usually the last one standing if not one of the last to go down. It was fun but short lived as we were getting older and assuming more adult responsibilities. I still have my air soft guns though with hopes that one day enough friends will have the same nice day off to play a game for old times sake.
Even after all this I was still largely unexposed to real guns. In fact the first time I ever touched a real gun was when I got robbed at gunpoint. The two guys wanted my book bag that I carried personal items in rather than books (PSP, few games, wallet, pocket knife.....) they caught me off guard, punched me in the face and slammed me against their car and tried to grab my bag but I didn't let go. I just got paid, just got that PSP, my green card was in my wallet, and I wasn't willing to part with them, particularly my green card, plus my knife was in the bag instead of my pocket (1st lesson learned about why carrying anything that isn't immediately available is pointless) and I needed to get to it, but between the two of them beating me senseless, all I could do was cover my face with one hand and hold onto my bag with the other. Running was not an available option in this situation. Because I wasn't giving up, one of them became frustrated and told the other to "go grab the pump" and by the time those words processed, I was staring down the barrel of a 12 gauge. My first reaction was to grab the barrel and point it at his friend. My face was no longer important but my bag still was
. I guess the guy with the gun was waiting on his friend to knock me out while I left my head open but it didn't happen so he pulled away and pumped the gun and right when I thought my life was over he turned it around and hit me in the left eye with the stock. At this point I gave up. If they wanted my bag that bad, the only thing left to do would be to kill me because even that didn't knock me out (I should've been a boxer) so I dropped to the floor and played dead while they looted me. I got up after they drove off and found I can still see but my nose was broken and pouring blood. I walked 2miles home looking like a damn zombie without anybody stopping to help then I reported it cause my cell phone was gone. One of the dudes got arrested a few weeks later after robbing an old lady in the same fashion except she got his license plate number and he happened to still have my green card when they raided his place so by chance I got it back but he thought I was the one who got him arrested instead of the old lady and later sent some guys to come rough me up as he knew my address thanks to my id. This time it was 4 in the afternoon, I step outside for a smoke but ate a fist instead out of nowhere knocking me to the ground and I looked up to see two different guys one holding a pistol to my head both telling me to hand over what I got and to open the door. Again I had just gotten paid but this time I complied, but I still wasn't about to let them in my parents home (am I stubborn or what). Luckily they were satisfied by the cash in my wallet and ran off after gun butting me again. This time I didn't report it. I didn't want to place my family in danger. I lost two paychecks in a row, my games, my knife, two phones, my face (temporarily, thank god) I was miserable.
The first incident left me scared to death of guns, but the second made it clear to me that I need a gun whether my parents liked it or not. It's gonna be a cold day in hell before I let someone decide my fate again. That proved to be easier said than done as my parents told me not while I'm living in their house. Pretty much the second I moved out I bought a friends high standard double nine revolver more for helping him financially more than as a defensive piece but it was better than nothing and affordable at the time. Several months later I went to a gunshow and handled as many handguns as I could and upon picking up a beretta 92 knew that's the one I wanted. Did a little research and decided on the 'fs' model and ended up buying a 92fs centurion. I took it to the range to make sure I know how to use it and make sure the hornady critical duty ammo, that I was recommended by the woman who sold me the gun, cycled, which it did along with everything else I've ever fed her. I was so nervous up to the moment the long but smooth da trigger broke and sent the bullet right under the bullseye and I felt recoil for the first time. At that moment I found the recoil I was previously scared of was actually very mild, the bullet actually went (close) to where I was aiming, I felt that same satisfaction I got from shooting that kid in the forehead with the rubber band, and my anxiety disappeared. I had a blast. At 23 I experienced the joy of shooting for the first time and at the same time I realized that guns aren't bad and they're not just for bad guys and for shooting them but can also be a hobby, a sport, even a job. I always had a thing for the artistic aspect of things like cars and guns fit right in. I admit part of my buying the beretta was based on its looks. Once I found out how awesome guns are I became curious as to how other guns shoot. I went and got a few bricks of 22lr and tried my high standard which aside from a really stiff da pull shoots great. The two guns shot so differently, each had its own character and I became even more curious about other guns. I bought a 1911 not even two months later cause because between looks, history, curiosity, Internet forums and gun ****, I needed a 1911 for my new collection. Then I needed a 357 revolver cause my 50 yr old beat up 22 revolver wasn't cutting it, so I got a gp100. Then I needed a rifle and then I needed a........ And so I became hopelessly addicted to buying guns and have bought another at least once every other month enough to have acquired 10 guns since I started shooting 14 months ago. On a cook budget
. It took me a while to tell my parents I love guns and while they thought I was crazy at first, they see I'm happier now with a new hobby and they have come to accept guns as something other than an evil assault weapon. Ya know I'm usually a quiet person but this is something I will go on and on about as you can see lol so I I'll end with this: I've had many friends with many different addictions whether it be drugs, alcohol, gambling, eating, whatever, but I'm the only one with something to show for mine and I ain't quitting anytime soon
