Today I went to a gunstore in Colorado Springs.
While perusing the rather impressive display of hardware, I happened to ask the man behind the counter if he'd ever gotten any Matebas in.
He motioned for me to follow him to a case across the room.
And
there
they
were...
3 brand new Matebas in all of their glory, laying there like Thor's hammer.
After a moment of stunned silence, I asked if I could hold one.
I don't know that I can describe the experience...
The pistol fit my hand perfectly, it's deeply blued steel frame and walnut grip settling into my hand.
If John Moses Browning were God, then I suspect that would make Sergio Mateba a saint.
I stood there, holding the Mateba for a good minute, examining it, taking sight pictures, and doing my best not to get any drool or finger prints onto it.
Somewhere in the distance I thought I heard a chorus of angels softly singing...
And then I realized something.
I had to give the pistol back to the man behind the counter.
He casually took the pistol back from me and replaced it in the display case with it's brethren.
The chorus faded, the lights dimmed a little bit, and the world was back to normal. The mand behind the counter busily worked the top of the glass cabinet with a hankie, mopping up the drool that had accumulated.
Now all I can think about is how much I want a Mateba Unica 6 in .357 Magnum...
Today was a good day.
While perusing the rather impressive display of hardware, I happened to ask the man behind the counter if he'd ever gotten any Matebas in.
He motioned for me to follow him to a case across the room.
And
there
they
were...
3 brand new Matebas in all of their glory, laying there like Thor's hammer.
After a moment of stunned silence, I asked if I could hold one.
I don't know that I can describe the experience...
The pistol fit my hand perfectly, it's deeply blued steel frame and walnut grip settling into my hand.
If John Moses Browning were God, then I suspect that would make Sergio Mateba a saint.
I stood there, holding the Mateba for a good minute, examining it, taking sight pictures, and doing my best not to get any drool or finger prints onto it.
Somewhere in the distance I thought I heard a chorus of angels softly singing...
And then I realized something.
I had to give the pistol back to the man behind the counter.
He casually took the pistol back from me and replaced it in the display case with it's brethren.
The chorus faded, the lights dimmed a little bit, and the world was back to normal. The mand behind the counter busily worked the top of the glass cabinet with a hankie, mopping up the drool that had accumulated.
Now all I can think about is how much I want a Mateba Unica 6 in .357 Magnum...
Today was a good day.