This is something else I tell a lot of new shooters about. It took me 8 whole months to settle on my first gun. I went to the range weekly with my revolver, but at some point along the line I began renting guns out of the extensive selection provided by the range. I didn't really know what I was looking for, but figured it would come to me when I found it.
Price was a big issue. We weren't paid real well in that job, so I didn't have the money to drop on an expensive handgun. I fell in love with a Kimber 1911 in 45ACP before anyone showed me a price tag, but it got pushed aside when the company wouldn't approve the gun. Being single action, the gun had to be carried "cocked and locked," something that wasn't permitted on my license.
With time running out, I had found a Ruger (I think) of some sort. Heck if I remember what it was now, but I had decided this was the gun I'd purchase. I found it ugly and ill fitting - and very green - but it was the right price. Having to qualify in a week, I decided this was my gun.
It happened to be in a 40SW round. In the 8 months I'd been testing guns, I'd fired just about everything the range had to offer... all but a 40SW. I'd never tried it. So, I decided to get a feel for it before I bought it. Around to the range side I went, asking for that gun. It wasn't available for rent. They only had one gun for rent in that caliber. It was a Sig Sauer P226. The range officer, knowing me well and knowing what I needed, was quick to tell me the price tag on the gun before I decided to try shooting it. I said that was fine, I just wanted to try the round, the gun didn't make any difference to me. And I still remember that price tag... it was a whopping $633 at that time.
He handed me the gun and a box of rounds and out I went.
Remember how I said I'd know it when I found it? I did. I tell a lot of new shooters trying out guns they are considering that the gun "will sing to you." I've had plenty of customers agree with that. A gun will "talk to you" or not, but it's the one that "sings" that you take home. Many of us have heard the song more than a few times. It won't make sense to anyone who hasn't heard it yet, but you'll remember this really crazy sounding paragraph when you hear it. And any time you grab a gun from a pile and take it home, you'll know what that "song" sounds like.
I put 50 rounds through that rental Sig and walked out into the lobby. I'd forgotten what gun I'd chosen originally. It didn't matter anymore. This was my new gun.
I name all my guns, and you'll learn them all here. LOL! Fluffy started that tradition, too. My Sig was named Secret (strong enough for a man, PH Balanced for a woman, LOL!). It was decided by everyone who saw me shoot and anyone else who shot it that Secret was female. That first round was always the hardest pull on the trigger, and it never failed... the silhouette target always took the first round straight to the crotch!
Secret was my faithful partner through the rest of my time at that armored car company, my entire time at the second, and the first year and a half at the gun store (I took a job with the store I bought her from after escaping the armored car industry). I shot my first pistol matches with her, and the first time I actually placed it was with her. And one day Secret even saved my life. But that is a story for another entry.
It was at a match shortly after her 4th birthday that it became evident something was wrong. I had two of my pistols with me for this match - Secret and my Smith & Wesson 686 revolver (find his story in the next entry to come). One of the other shooters approached me 3/4 of the way through one of the worst matches I'd ever shot. He asked me if I was feeling alright, since my groups were huge. I was beating myself up for not shooting well, and told him I hadn't been shooting well for some time now. My explanation - I need more practice. I'm obviously doing something wrong and need to work it out. He asked to see my gun. So I handed it over.
He cracked her open, made a face, and told me to shoot the last stage with my revolver. I laughed, but he nudged me to load up and haul that 6" barrel to the firing line.
I shot it with respectable time... with no misses and no mistakes. The groups were tight and clean. I walked back to the line, where the guy handed me my gun back and said, "Here's the number for a good gunsmith. You need one."
I ignored him and credited the length of the barrel to my good fortune on the last stage. But it stuck with me. The next time I went back to work, I handed the gun off to our then resident Sig fanatic and asked him to have a look. He made the same face the guy at the match had made. Looking at me he said, "I know you take really excellent care of this gun, so what's up?"
Not really getting where he was coming from I stared blankly. He handed it to me and said, "Let's shoot and see what happens."
Out we went. It took about 15 rounds before we heard a strange noise and the gun locked up. It was last 15 rounds ever fired out of Secret.
The strange noise was the barrel cracking. We also found a fracture in the frame. Secret was a lost cause. I sent her back to the factory, figuring the best eyes were the ones that made her. She came back a week later with a report... she had a clean bill of health. Which seemed strange to me... they didn't even mention the barrel was cracked, and it was obvious. The letter from the factory said she was "safe to shoot, as is." I called the company to question the diagnosis. I was told they considered it to be normal wear for the gun. Their explanation? "You shoot it too much." I wish I was making that up, but I'm sadly not. The round count was about 6500 rounds at that point.
I made the mistake of asking how a cracked barrel and frame was "normal" and was met by a string of curses and threats... from the company rep! I informed him that I was an employee for one of his largest retailers, and all of a sudden they could fix the gun if I would just send it back. I hung up on them and took it to my boss. My boss called them about the situation... and let's just say the screaming match that followed could be heard through the entire warehouse sized store through his closed wooden door.
Now, I'm not one for selling off my collection. Everyone has their opinions of selling their guns off, and all are valid. I just usually don't. Secret is the only gun from my collection that I have sold off. It hurt like hell doing it, too. Especially since she was sold off for parts. I cared for that gun like it was a living thing. My life depended on it for the entire time I had it, especially on those trucks, and like I said, she saved my life once. So parting with it was heart breaking to say the least.
I've never allowed myself to feel that way about a gun again. I love my guns, sure, especially the "collectable" military surplus rifles. But I've never felt toward any of them what I felt toward that Sig. It's hard to explain why an attachment like that starts, but it does and can and probably will. I still think about it from time to time. Especially every time I look at the handgun I bought with the money I got for the Sig. I've had a parade of guns come into my life since, and I care for them all with great pride. After all, they are all tools, and if you care for a gun correctly it'll "care" for you in return. I finally met a handgun not long ago that melted into my paw the way my Sig did. I'd never felt one before and figured I never would. It happens to be an old Beretta. That gun, will, too, get its story here, so I won't go into that.
The moral of the story: a gun is a tool with a job to do. Like a hammer. It is nothing more. Many of us, at some point, have gotten attached to an inanimate object that eventually failed us. It may be your car. I know a lot of people feel an attachment to their cars, especially the first one. Secret was my first gun, and she was the one with the biggest job to do. But, much like my first car, she died a horrible and unexplainable death. But, like that old Honda Accord, she was replaceable. Don't get too attached. You may not be able to help it. You'll have to get to know how to use this tool and how to care for it. You'll spend a lot of time caring for it and learning to use it correctly. That's the great thing about the shooting sports... you never stop learning. But don't get upset when it finally fails you. Man made objects tend to do that. It could last four years like my Sig did, or 75 years and counting like my K31 rifle has (ironically, also a Sig of sorts). Learn it, care for it, but be prepared to let it go.
