The Old .22 Remington 514

[George Hill]

This is the first rifle I ever fired. My Daddy gave it to me... I'll give it to my first born son when he is old enough. It's older than I am by a good margin. Me and this old rifle go way back. Talk about adventures! Like when I was shooting groups from my bedroom window into the back yard and the bullets penetrating the back fence and into the garage next door. Thank goodness the guy's car was gone! We was pissed. Very pissed. My Dad was very pissed too. Both agreed, grudgingly, that it was very good shooting given the range. Many a rabbit, P-dog, and Chuck have fallen before me and this simple old single shot bolt action .22 rifle.

I have not fired it in a long time... Not too long ago I broke it out and took it to the range. Many, I have not had that much fun shooting in a long time. There was another .22 there too. A Colt Cadet that was a blast to shoot. But shooting the Remington was like going home. The Rifle felt like not like an old friend - but almost like a brother. An old brother with lots of scars, scratches, gouges, and dings... it had been there and done that.
Today I spend that later part refinishing it.
I started on the stock... Took several hours to sand it all down with 4 grades of sandpaper. I wanted to do it only by hand. Remembering old times with each stroke of the paper...
Then I did the bolt. I had differnt papers for the metal bits... Polished it up nice... thought about the time when I was trying to reload it faster than that one big old jack rabbit could reach it's hole... While polishing the barrel and reblueing it I thought about poping cans just barely within visual range... Thinking about the thousands of rounds I carefully fired one at a time.
Almost a reverance as applied the wood stain and watched the grain explode with it's rich color...

All in all... its now a work of art that it never was before. I look at it with the same awe that I had when I first held it and touched that trigger.

It's ready for the next several decades.

 

[Seeker]

Beautiful.

Gotta love that first single-shot .22.

 

[George Hill]

I got an email from my Momma about this:

Hi sweetheart! I am so glad that you took the time to care for that little piece of history. My Dad bought that for my brother, when he was sixteen. It is very old. We old things need tender loving care, and then we can still be a thing of beauty. The gun was always to go to you, son. Dad may have not wanted you to take it yet, meaning a few years ago, but he knew it was to go to the first born son. That would be you. It is special to me, cause my Dad gave it to me. He ended up giving his Dads shotgun, to my brother, and ElRay gave the .22 back to my Dad. My Dad told me that when you got big enought to take care of it properly, it should be yours. It will always be yours, until, you decide that Kade is old enough to take care of it.

Wow! This old Rifle came from my Grandfather! I didn't know that! My Grandfather Clarkson was the coolest guy ever. He died when I was young, but I remember him well. Tall and lean, with a sharp eye and wit. He never finished grade school when he was a youth do to the Great Depression. He lived a Grapes of Wrath life when he was a young man. When he got older, he worked for Boeing and Boeing never let roll a 747 during his work there that didn't have his stamp of approval on it. He used to eat these tiny little green and red peppers from these little jars that had a drip spout. He could drip some juice on his eggs or open the jar and just eat them. One day I wanted to try one too. I was what? 7? I took it and popped it into my mouth and started chewing. I still remember his laughing and smiling while I was turning red in the face. When I remember that, I have to laugh too. He was a great man. There is something about a Gun that makes an antique a part of heritage... You can't pass down any other bit of Metal and Wood that carries with it the same Meaning and Spirit. The gift of a weapon - even a simple .22 carries with it more than anything else. I missed my Grandfather... Now, I will always have something to remember him by... and pass on to my Son.

This is something that the shallow and heartless Anti-Gun people could NEVER understand.