Thursday, June 12, 2008

An odd hobby for an aging hippie.

The first gun I ever shot was a Winchester. .22 shorts in a single shot bolt action model 67 with iron sights. I had to shoot from the seated position because I was too small to hold up the barrel. But my reverence for the Winchester Rifle is more about it's place in American history then any nostalgia for that first firearm.
I didn't intentionally start collecting Winchesters, and it's really not much of a collection. Nothing in it is of great value or historical note. They came to me one at a time, and it wasn't until I bought the 4th that it became apparent a collection was under way. I'm up to 6 now, every one a "shooter". I can't see myself buying a rifle that had to stay in the case.
I know that there are mixed feelings about firearms. I personally believe that everyone has the right to own one, but I don't box outside my weight and I'm not going to argue the Second Amendment here or anywhere.
My interest is target shooting, I don't hunt any more and would never draw a bead on anything that wasn't a direct and immediate dire threat to me or mine.
I know that they are nothing but great shiney machined steel phalluses, ejaculating destruction at long range, I'm not defined by my collection.
If somebody invented an elegant looking nurf-gun that was accurate out to 200 yards, I'd sell the lot and spend my free time tipping over paper cups and annoying the sh!t out of the squirrels and bluejays.

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