Many years ago, my Dad gave me my first gun. An old 16 gauge break down single shot Stevens. He and my uncle went to a guy they knew that bought and traded a lot of guns, and it was an unexpected surprise to me. I didn't know anything about it. My uncle recently told me that he was pretty sure that Dad gave him $65 for it. And in typical fashion for my Dad, talked him down from $75
That old gun and I have walked many miles through the woods. Some of the most memorable times of my life have been spent while carrying it.
I don't mean to come across as too sentimental over an inanimate object. But, the gun does mean a lot to me. But, it only represents why it means so much to me. For starters, Dad trusted me enough to have it. That came with a lot of responsibility that only came with age and maturity. And in many ways, was a right of passage.
While growing up, I hunted almost every day when some season was in. Didn't matter what it was. And that gun never failed me. I'm not going to say that I never missed with it, or anything, but the gun has always done what it was supposed to do and has been like an extension of my own arm.
I looked through an old photo album recently and saw a picture of it in my old bedroom when I was growing up. It was probably taken just before I moved out on my own. But, the old gun is in the gun rack underneath of an old smoke pole that my Dad built from a kit. Complete with some junky camo tape because I thought it would help me get more squirrels. It didn't. But, that's a story for another day.
Over the years, I have had other guns come and go. Some I've used a lot. Carried a lot. But this year, I have pulled that old friend out of the safe and have used it every hunt that I've been on again. I have to admit, it's like riding a bike. It points and shoots the same as it always did. And so far, every time I've pulled the trigger, I've gotten what I aimed at first shot. You just can't argue with that.
The first time that I took it back out, I noticed the hulls aren't ejecting. They're extracting, but I'm going to have to change the spring. The hulls are only extracting about half way out of the chamber and that's it. When it's right, would launch empty shells 6 or 8 feet behind you.
So, I'm going to order a new spring for it. Thankfully, finding new old stock springs is still possible, despite being more than 45 years old now and out of production for almost 30 of those years.
I was also noticing the blueing on the reciever. Or, the lack thereof. There is still some blue on it, but that's honest to goodness wear.
So, while I'm waiting on the new ejector spring, I decided while I had it apart that I was going to try to reblue the receiver. While it's not the really dark deep black that it used to be when I first got it, at least this way, the metal is protected again for hopefully a few more years.
That old gun and I have walked many miles through the woods. Some of the most memorable times of my life have been spent while carrying it.
I don't mean to come across as too sentimental over an inanimate object. But, the gun does mean a lot to me. But, it only represents why it means so much to me. For starters, Dad trusted me enough to have it. That came with a lot of responsibility that only came with age and maturity. And in many ways, was a right of passage.
While growing up, I hunted almost every day when some season was in. Didn't matter what it was. And that gun never failed me. I'm not going to say that I never missed with it, or anything, but the gun has always done what it was supposed to do and has been like an extension of my own arm.
I looked through an old photo album recently and saw a picture of it in my old bedroom when I was growing up. It was probably taken just before I moved out on my own. But, the old gun is in the gun rack underneath of an old smoke pole that my Dad built from a kit. Complete with some junky camo tape because I thought it would help me get more squirrels. It didn't. But, that's a story for another day.
Over the years, I have had other guns come and go. Some I've used a lot. Carried a lot. But this year, I have pulled that old friend out of the safe and have used it every hunt that I've been on again. I have to admit, it's like riding a bike. It points and shoots the same as it always did. And so far, every time I've pulled the trigger, I've gotten what I aimed at first shot. You just can't argue with that.
The first time that I took it back out, I noticed the hulls aren't ejecting. They're extracting, but I'm going to have to change the spring. The hulls are only extracting about half way out of the chamber and that's it. When it's right, would launch empty shells 6 or 8 feet behind you.
So, I'm going to order a new spring for it. Thankfully, finding new old stock springs is still possible, despite being more than 45 years old now and out of production for almost 30 of those years.
I was also noticing the blueing on the reciever. Or, the lack thereof. There is still some blue on it, but that's honest to goodness wear.
So, while I'm waiting on the new ejector spring, I decided while I had it apart that I was going to try to reblue the receiver. While it's not the really dark deep black that it used to be when I first got it, at least this way, the metal is protected again for hopefully a few more years.
