Number 10: Remington 700 SPS Police - My Name Sake

I get asked a lot why I chose the name "Black Magic" for myself on blogs and some forums. As I've stated in past posts, I do name my guns. Above is my name sake... Black Magic. And she's got a story, same as her name does.

Black Magic is a Remington 700 SPS Police, chambered in .308 Win. She's a solid, accurate rifle with capabilities above me. LOL! Many a shooter will claim their gun is more accurate then they are. Black Magic is no exception.

Far away from my typical tastes, Black Magic was a pipe dream for me. She was on my wish list, but she was always far above my price range. And with a rifle like this, you build on it to meet your needs and it's own qualities. So I knew, with what I always said I'd do to it if it were mine, she would cost me far more than I ever said I would spend on a rifle.

But fate was on our side.

At the time, I worked in the first gun shop I was employed with. It was a very large shop with a gigantic selection. There was something for everyone there from tactical to hunting to fun guns, etc. And I like fun guns. I like guns I can clean up, study, find history on, just plug holes in paper, etc. Black Magic was a little more work than I really ever thought I'd put into a gun.

But she came into the shop with a twin many moons ago. She went on the wrack while her twin waited in the warehouse for a new home. It came.

The guns sat for almost a year before someone came in and happily bought the twin. We were glad one finally moved. After all, this rifle was very popular with the staff. We all played with it on a regular basis, fake sighting it, working the action, and firing onto dummie rounds, all of us saying what we'd do to dress it up and what we wanted to learn to be able to meet the weapon's capabilities. But none of us could afford such a gun. So we were content to drool all over it whenever the shop was slow.

The customer came back a month later. Being a regular, he considered us friends and knew our feelings toward the rifle. So he wanted to show off his handy work.

He pulled it out of the carry case and we gasped in horror. He had painted the rifle tan and spray painted what appeared to be ferns all over it. A cheap scope sat on top, the cross hairs badly tilted, a set of plastic bipods were clipped to the barrel (which is horrible for accuracy), and there was rust all over the barrel. He was more concerned with making it look like he was a sniper in the jungles of Vietnam than actually taking care of the rifle. But he was proud of himself, so we chocked it back and told him it was wonderful.

A few months later... the Presidential election happened. We learned Barack Obama would be taking over the White House. We came in that Wednesday and we knew what was coming. We could smell it in the air. The gun owners and those who considered becoming gun owners were coming... they were coming in droves with cash in hand to buy anything that even remotely looked tactical and could be banned a la Clinton. We were like a championship football team in the locker room before the game. We began clearing isles and interviewing prospective sales people. We needed everything set by Saturday, because the hordes were coming.

But those who stood behind the counter looked at the wracks. We looked at what we knew had numbered days left on the shelf. And my eyes rested on the Remington 700 SPS Police. She had recently been marked down to blow out since her time on the shelf had reached a year and a half. And I thought about the twin and the ferns.

The other sales people began plucking AR-15 rifles off the shelf, intent to get them into their collections before the hordes came and left us with nothing but revolvers and tumbleweed. But I reached out and took hold of the bolt gun. The time had come.

I didn't consider it an Obama panic buy. I didn't even consider it a buy. I considered it a rescue.  I was saving this rifle from the fate of the twin. I was keeping it from getting into the hands of some tactical trunk monkey who wanted to be a Marine sniper but didn't have the balls to go through Marine basic, or had possibly eaten one too many Big Macs to be accepted in.

As my financing application was being approved, I swore several things:

1. She would never be any color other than black. 
2. She would never be referred to as a "sniper rifle." And I would correct anyone who called her such. 
3. I would work and learn about the rifle, shooting it as it was intended to be shot, and not just to be another cool jack ass at the range.

The guys began making jokes at the expense of mall ninjas, and somehow they began referring to her as "Black Magic." It stuck.

In the end, I was right. I spent more on this rifle than I ever wanted to spend on any rifle in my life. I added only a few things... a bipod and scope. I bought a nice set of "clothes" for her, too. It's a set of padded covers for the scope and crown of the barrel, they connect, and the scope cover wraps around the stock so it can be used like a carry handle.

Black Magic is my least discussed rifle. No one else has ever shot her, which is unheard of because I let everyone shoot my guns, even people who ask nicely at the range. She's never appeared in any videos. I rarely show pictures of her. I brought her to the new shop once to let my boss see her, and that was it. And this is the first time I've told that story about how and why I got her.

People who have seen her... they're never impressed. She's not much to look at. But she fits the bill for the gun I think everyone should have. What is that?

I think everyone should own one gun that is too expensive for them. A gun that shoots better than they do. A gun that urges them to move forward in their sport and learn. A gun that the pure thought of makes them smile ear to ear. That's my Magic. I don't shoot her often. But I've kept my word. She isn't a "fun gun." I plan to someday try a match with her. But before that, I am learning everything I can about her and how to shoot her correctly. It's a lot of math and science, and it's a ton of fun for someone like me who is a complete nerd. I have moved forward with her in an attempt to become as proficient with her as I possibly can. And I think everyone should have a gun just like that, whatever the gun may be.

She has zero cool factor. She really does look just like any old hunting rifle to the naked eye. But the insides are what is important. To someone who cares, she is a piece of art and they know what they are looking at. She was fun to assemble, she's fun to learn about, and she's helping me to increase my skills to the next level. I wish a gun just like her for every collection.

Number 9: Fadia

It was just one of those things. I follow my gut when stuff like this happens, and my gut almost never leads me wrong. A lot of people think my flavor of gun buying can be odd at times. Especially when I end up buying like I did this one.

My Century Arms Romanian WASR10 is an odd bird. I had always planned to eventually buy an AK style rifle. At this point, I'd never shot one and had hardly handled them at all, but it was on my wish list.

However... one morning, I woke up and was laying in bed staring at the ceiling and the thought came to me. I should go to the local gun shop and buy one.

No, really. I had reached that point in my gun buying where this actually happened to me. But it proved to be a good notion. I landed a really great rifle and it was still marked at $300. It wasn't long after this that the prices on the same gun shot up to $1000 and then "normalized" down to between $450 and $500.

So I got up and got dressed, then collected my cash. I was off to the local gun shop run by one of the most notoriously cranky individuals ever to grace the gun counter. Now, in our area this guy has become almost famous. Everyone knows him, and no one is ever going to shop at this store again because of him, but the shop seems to be doing just fine. Me? I find the guy to be entertaining.

In I walked and spotted the one I wanted. I reach the counter and our friend is there chatting away. He looks and me, sighs, and says, "What?"

"Can I see that AK, please?"

Exasperated, he reaches over and grabs it... then throws it at me and walks into the backroom of the shop.

Now I'm standing alone in the store holding an AK that doesn't belong to me. So I leaned on the counter and waited. I figured eventually he'd realize if I wasn't an honest person I could walk off with this rifle and no one would be the wiser. He eventually came back and look almost surprised to see me still standing there holding the AK.

He was even more surprised when I threw it at him. Hey, eye for an eye, right?

He's very nice to me every time I go into the shop now. Huh.

Anyway, I walked out of the shop that day with my new WASR10.

Now, the WASR10 has a very bad reputation. Trigger slap, jamming, and wobbly magazines are only a few of the complaints I've heard tossed around by people... generally people who don't own one. I've had mine - named Fadia, as the title implies - for several years now. Since about 2007. I've fired countless rounds through her, too. Not a single jam to date. It came with a non-slappy Tapco trigger, and my magazines fit just fine with zero wobble. Maybe I lucked out, who knows.

Now, Fadia is known for something I hate to admit. The folks at the range always ask if I have Fadia with me (they know me as they do all their regulars, and they know who names their guns and what those names are. I love my range). If I say yes, I can count on finding a bucket of water next to my shooting station. Fadia tends to set her wooden handguards a blaze. It's not a huge fire like the crazy guy in that video everyone's seen. But black smoke does tend to pour out around round 300. They call Fadia "Dunkin' Shoot" because of this. When the smoke comes, dunk it in the bucket and keep shooting.

Fadia hasn't been getting the attention she deserves in recent years. I hate to admit it, but she's not had any range time in about a year and a half. I'll have to change that soon.

7th and 8th - Ruger 10/22 and Springfield Armory 1911 MilSpec

I'm making this a two fer post because there really wasn't a story to go along with the Ruger 10/22. I always wanted one, it took me long enough to decide on one, and I got it. I settled on one with the red laminate stock.

This was one of those "why did I bother?" purchases. I love the rifle, and do believe there isn't a 22 LR out there today that can out shoot a 10/22. But I was apparently not made to shoot a 22LR. I put 30 rounds down the barrel, took it home, put it in a silicon sock, and then forgot about it for a few years. Only a few weeks ago I took it out of that sock and decided to go shoot it again. I managed 100 rounds this time before I caught myself yawning. 22LR is a great round. You can shoot all day long and not go broke on ammo. And it is a fantastic round to teach a new shooter on. But I learned on a 38 spl and my first rifle was a large caliber... having something this small - and that accurate - was pretty boring. I put 100 rounds down range that day and could fit the group into a shot glass. I was beyond impressed. And I love a rifle that is great for marksmanship (and I have a few). But it got boring real fast. LOL! Just me, I guess.

So the purchase after this Ruger was a Springfield Armory 1911 MilSpec. Another gun I had always wanted.

Anyone who ever had the urge to buy a 1911 can tell you... they can be had from anywhere between $350 to $5000. Your standard reproduction of the Colt 1911 issued to the military is usually on the cheaper side, mostly because it doesn't come with all the bells and whistles. And being a fan of the old military stuff and style, that was all I really wanted. But I wanted a good one, too. I wanted this Springfield.

At the time, the store I worked for ran their own firing range in the back. It was indoor, 50 yards, and took everything under 50 BMG. But somewhere along the line the firing range got to be too much for the shop to hang on to (contrary to popular belief, firing ranges are not the billionaire makers people think they are. The care and insurance of a good range - even with a large amount of users like this one had - is enough to bankrupt the store. You'll notice many ranges have stores attached... the store keeps the range going). So the inevitable happened... the range was closed down for good.

Well, they had a ton of rental weapons back there, all needing good homes. Sold as used, these guns were cleared out fast and hard at sweet prices. One benefit to working at a gun store is you see what goes up for sale before anyone else... and we shop, too.

Among the pile of guns going out to the floor was this Springfield Armory 1911 MilSpec, just as pictured above with the wrap around grip. I wasn't fond of the grip, but 1911s are very popular so your grip choices are endless.

It wasn't pretty. It had spent two years as a rental gun, being tortured by everyone who rented it, and it was a very popular weapon. Rental shooters don't treat the guns well, it's the "I don't have to worry about, it isn't mine" factor. So it was dropped, kicked, thrown, beaten into walls, etc. When I got it, it was an ugly gun.

And it still is! Other than the grips, I haven't changed a thing. It works great for startle factor. The gun is so ugly that when it comes out at the range or at matches, people chuckle a little and look away. But that is one tough gun to beat. Even with the original barrel it had as a rental, the gun performs flawlessly at matches and hits right where it is aimed, every time.

One day I went out to the mailbox and found a package from a friend I had met via a gun forum. He was several states away, but we shared the joy of new purchases with each other via the forum itself. I opened the package and found a note that simply said, "Lose the Goodyears." With the note was a set of maple wood grips.

That began the downfall. LOL! I'm the type of person who changes the look of everything a million times. A few months after getting these grips, the gun ended up looking like this instead:

You don't hand a highly customizable weapon to a girl who enjoys accessorizing but isn't girlie enough to buy jewelery!

This gun quickly became my go to girl. Fast and accurate without ever giving me so much as a hiccup, I realize the time is coming for a new barrel. Lord only know how many rounds are down that thing, and she's finally starting to show her aches and pains. Our last range day was a bit of a struggle. But she'll get the very best, of course. This also began my love affair with Springfields. I can't say enough good about the guns or the company itself. The XD isn't my cup of tea, but this was the first of two Springfield pistols I brought home. Both are beyond stellar weapons, and Springfield stepped up on both of them, continuing the lifetime warranty of the 1911 even with it's less than stellar history.

Sixth: Glock 21SF - Changing Minds

Up until this point, I was pretty much a Glock hater. I never doubted they were good guns, but it felt like I was holding a brick. Which is something I hear rather often. So when I sold off my Sig P226, I found myself needing a new gun to carry at the shop. All of the employees at that gun shop were armed, and I was heading toward a management position, so going unarmed wasn't an option. And nothing I already owned fit the rules of the shop for what we could carry.

I quickly began saving money and looking into guns that fit the bill. Somewhere during this period of time Glock released their slim frame models - which we correctly guessed were a sort of tester for their generation 4 guns. Our first one arrived at the shop - a Glock 21SF.

This Glock was the black sheep of Glocks. Being the largest frame Glock makes, it now also became one of the slimmest. The first batch released came with an ambidextrous magazine release and a 1913 (picatinny) rail. The last two features were useless to me, but the slim grip made it so I could get my hand wrapped around it comfortably.

And I was pretty much sold. Not long after that I brought my own home. I was tickled to find I could shove it into the leather holster left behind by my Sig's departure. It wasn't a glove fit, but it went in and stayed.

I drove from the gun shop to an IDPA match. As I say, we cut the seal on the box at the match. I don't usually recommend shooting a gun you haven't cleaned yet, but Glock comes with a break in fluid inside they don't recommend you clean off, so I figured... go for it. And the gun proved it's worth right there. I did not place in the match. But the gun shot very well. Even after we both took a nice roll in the red Carolina red clay. Wiped it down, made sure the barrel was clear, and kept on shooting. No problem.

Two weeks later I was at the firing range with this same gun when we got some bad ammunition. An over charged load had made it's way into the box somehow (factory ammo) and blew the gun clear out of my hands. It actually slammed into the wall behind me, but I was out of that range before it hit the ground. Nothing like a "pop... pop... BOOM!" to make you need to sit down for a minute! The gun came out just fine. Inspections were done by Glock certified armorers and we were on our way.

To this day, this gun still sits on my hip at the gun shop. It's been a few years now, since 11/12/2007. I'm not shooting matches as much as I used to these days, but I still trust this gun with my life daily. No burps or hiccups since day one. And now I'm one of the Glock armorers, too.

Fifth: Benelli Super Nova - Free Guns Shoot Best!

My Benelli Super Nova is an odd bird in my collection.

Here's something you might not know. Many of these gun companies have their own moves to drum up sales. Any gun person has seen various promotions for customers who buy their products during a certain period of time. But many don't know the other step... some of these companies have special promotions for gun sales staff, too. Because if they get something, they'll push the product.

For example, a famous one is Bushmaster's promotion. I have no idea if they still do this, but for a period of time if sales people in the shops presented the paperwork that proved the sale of one of their products, they got a certain number of lobsters for every certain amount of paperwork. Yeah, no kidding. I was shocked the day our box arrived and I popped open the top to find a dozen live lobsters inside. I had personally been awarded two live lobsters from this lot, and I was tasked with getting them home. In nothing. So for the 30 minute ride home from work I had two lobsters walking around the passenger seat of my car. When it arrived that time again the following year, I "forgot" to collect the paperwork for my lobsters. It's kinda hard to eat something that keeps crawling into your lap for warmth on the way home.

Most companies compensate the sales people with a small cash bonus (S&W was known to give out $15 per handgun, and Springfield Armory and Ruger allowed you to collect points towards a free gun, which sounds a lot easier than it actually was).

The shop I worked for at the time had been chosen as one of the gun shops allowed to participate in a Benelli program. The deal... the sales person in the chosen stores who sold the most Benelli products won a free Super Nova of their choice, one per chosen shop.

Now, for those not familiar with Benelli, they are very good shotguns... with a very big price tag for a production gun. The Super Nova is a pump action shotgun, and it held the smallest price tag out of their selection. The one above, at that time (about 2006) was $560. Their semi-auto selections at the time were reaching above $1500 a pop, some breaking that $2000 mark. So selling Benellis in quantity - especially over the one month period the contest took into consideration - was no small task.

At the end of the month I had paperwork proving four sales of Benelli shotguns. So did one other sales person. We had a tie.

The winner was decided by a "guess the number I am thinking" game. The store owner told a witness his number and me the other sales person had to guess as close as possible. His number was nine. The other sales person said four, I said six. The shotgun was mine.

I decided to be the weird one, so I chose the Super Nova with the Advantage Timber camo finish and ComforTech stock with a 26" barrel. Which shocked everyone working there, all of who wanted the shorter, black version with the pistol grip stock.

I spent a few months with customers and others telling me to give the shotgun to someone else because a female can't possibly handle a 12 gauge shotgun.

Well, in response, I kept my shotgun and took up sporting clays! So there! :P

I am one of the weird masses who names my guns, and I take great care and pride in those names. This shotgun is nick named the obvious "Nelli" but her name is actually "Zes." Dutch for six, the number I chose to win it. I don't shoot it often anymore, but still have it and care for it.

Zes has stories of her own at this point, the most popular being the flash flood I got caught in with my "puller" at the sporting clays course. The area was in the middle of a several months long drought when a sudden thunder storm moved in and caused the lake to flood over the course. My puller and I were soon up to our chests in water, me with the shotgun over my head. He found something we could use as a make shift raft to get us to higher ground before we had to swim there, and when we realized we lacked a paddle, Zes ended up in the flood waters, used as a very efficient raft paddle. When I got home and got dried out completely, I cleaned her off and found a new selling point for the duck hunters who came into the shop regularly. Not a spot of rust formed and no damage was to be reported. Zes passed a test no other gun I've ever owned had to try out!

Fourth: My First Rifle

Up until this point, rifles and shotguns hadn't been much of a consideration. And, to this point, I was also not much of a fan of anything in the used counter. But a throaty boom and a warm stock changed my heart and, truth be told, was the beginning of the end for this girl.

It was a co-worker named Chris who began this trip for me. Chris was an avid collector and a colorful bird. He liked talking guns and to this day I've never met a person more knowledgeable about firearms than him. But he sat me down one day with an unlikely rifle on the shop's firing range.

I shot rifles and shotguns before this, but none had tweaked my interest. And when he pulled the old, worn looking rifle with the steel butt plate out of the bag, I had my reservations. But a few rounds later and my heart was turned.

At the very next gun show, I was on a mission. I was going to bring home my very first rifle, and another lesson would be learned.

I picked up my Swiss K31 (Karabiner 1931) back in 2006. The first thing I did was take it to the firing range.

With a beaten in walnut stock and slightly damaged steel butt plate, accompanied by an odor that can only be described as old wood, my love of long guns was forged.

My K31 was made in 1936. That makes it 75 years old. Weighing in at around 9 lbs., this straight pull bolt, magazine fed rifle was an innovation for its time. Not as famous as the Mauser, the K31 is best known for the bolt system which requires two movements to do a lot of work inside. Pull back, push forward... this motion causes the bolt itself to turn and cock the gun. It made it a fast shooting bolt rifle and still held accuracy only a bolt rifle could give you at the time. The iron sights on this gun were easily adjusted to sight you in at 1500 meters. Of course, with iron sights, 1500 meters is pretty optimistic even for the best of eyes.

So what's the fascination with these old guns? Well, for starters... the history. I like an old gun with some dings in the stock. Each ding and funky colored stuck, each proof mark and fix tells a story.

One of the things that grabs the attention of history buffs when it comes to the K31 is the fact that the Swiss tended to put name tags for the soldier the gun was issued to under the plate. So many people have taken that steel plate off to find the name of the soldier who depended on that rifle, and in some instances that soldier was still alive. Chris had contacted the soldier and sent him a photo of himself with the rifle. In return, he received the bayonet that went with it and a photo of the soldier also holding the same rifle. Upon getting the rifle home, removing the plate was the first step. Mine had no tag under the plate, but I didn't regret removing the plate. I found two interesting pieces under there. One was dried grass... the other was a few pieces of blonde hair stuck to a stain by the damaged section of the plate. Imaginations can run wild assuming how that got there... but I left it all untouched and replaced the plate, so to the best of my knowledge, it's all still under there.

A rifle like my K31 is extremely accurate and fun to shoot, but the history is the best part. You find yourself researching each individual marking and how the dings got there. For instance, you may notice a color difference in the back to that of the front... it's a water stain. The Swiss would camp for the night and plant the rifles in the snow, barrels to the sky, and over time the stocks darkened where the snow was. The dings are worse in that area, too. The Swiss soldiers wore boots with spiked cleats on them, and while walking they would bang the rifles on those cleats to clear ice and snow and give them better traction.

On the modern day side, this rifle is always a lot of fun at the range. It can group as well if not better than most modern rifles it lays next to. Chambered in 7.5x55 Swiss, it is close to the .308 round. However, being designed as a complete fighting tool, the K31 has no padding or anything to make it lighter or shorter. So most at the range will take a step back when you hand them a round and offer to let them have a shot at it, especially after getting a view of that steel butt plate! And it does shove the shoulder. As I always say, "It's a good pain!"

When I worked on a firing range we broke in new employees this way. If they wanted instant respect, they had to go a full magazine with the K31. A full magazine is six rounds. Only one or two actually took the challenge, and only one succeeded.

But I fully blame this rifle for my love affair with older weapons. I love WWII vintage rifles, but have a soft spot for anything older than myself.

You'll be seeing plenty with the K31 in this blog. Although I have a lot more rifles in the ranks these days, "Alden" is secure in his position as a mama's boy and my favorite.

Third: The Noisy Cricket

We all have one... a gun that doesn't cost much, that you don't expect much from, and aren't real sure why you bought it to begin with.

I picked up my Bersa Thunder 380 in 2005. This was back before they gained any real popularity as a viable carry gun, back when the price was about $200. Not being the type to buy a lot of guns in the same caliber, I chose an inexpensive 380 as my carry gun, with the explanation that I didn't want to carry - and beat up - a more expensive gun. And even if it wasn't accurate, I'd still be able to defend myself at close range. I didn't expect much from it in performance or strength, but figured it was enough.

This was yet another caliber I wasn't familiar with, and was really only beginning my full ahead thrust into learning about guns and really studying them. I was no longer working for the armored car companies, and was now working as a cashier in a gun store, the same one I'd come to weekend after weekend with the Ruger in the little red tool box, with the hopes of gaining enough knowledge to become a sales person - where the learning really begins. I had a brand new concealed carry license, and nothing small enough to carry. My Sig had a shoulder holster, but that was proving to be a daunting gun to carry. And the 686 wouldn't conceal on the best of days!

So I showed up to work one day with my new little Bersa in my purse. Out to the range I went on my lunch break... only to have my heart shatter. Even if you aren't expecting much from a gun, it hurts when it fails.

The Bersa survived a good 30 rounds before it just quit firing completely. My co-workers and I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what had happened to my new paper weight. One of them finally told me to let him take it to his gunsmith for a look.

A week later, I got it back and went onto the range once again.

What I now had was a $200 piece of pure magic. The only thing I am 100% sure was done to the gun was that the magazine disconnect safety was disconnected. According to the gunsmith, it had malfunctioned. A free fix was just to have him cut it off without actually removing it. So my gun was now able to fire a round with the magazine out, but that wasn't something that bothered me. After all, my Sig could do that, too, by nature (all my semi-autos now are devoid of magazine disconnect safeties).

The tiny gun had a little more recoil than I had been lead to believe, although it still wasn't much. It was, by far, the smallest caliber gun I had shot to date (it would be another year or so before I shot my first 22LR), and the smallest framed gun I owned. So I began calling it "The Noisy Cricket" after the surprising little gun in "Men in Black."

Now, I still wouldn't shoot a pistol match with this little gun, and truth be told... I still have it, but I haven't shot it in years. It proved to be a poor carry gun unless strapped onto the ankle. The tail tends to stab you right under the ribs when you sit down if you carry it IWB. And I'd lost the rear sight during a road trip with it strapped to my ankle. Since then, it has also been painted by a formed co-worker to deem it the world's ugliest pistol.

But for some reason, I haven't been able to bring myself to sell the Noisy Cricket off. I don't know if it's the low price I'd get considering the ugly paint job or the fond memories I have of the little gun, but it's still around.

Maybe I'll take it to the range with me next time...

Second Purchase: The Hand Cannon

As many people do, I began my collection by stating all I wanted was one semi-auto, one revolver, one rifle, and one shotgun. Let's face it, a good number of people reading this remember saying that at one time, or are currently swearing on their soul that this will be the case, no doubt about it.

Well, I was adamant about that, too. I figured with the purchase of my Smith & Wesson 686 I was half way done with my collection! Boy, was I wrong!

At this point, my knowledge of guns was limited at best. I hadn't shot many calibers, and the only revolver I'd bothered with was the Ruger I had been issued. That Ruger was chambered in 357 magnum, but would not actually accept one, so I was itching to shoot a 357 magnum for real.

As you will soon notice, I have a thing for large framed guns. I don't know why, but they always held a special place in my heart. So the day I went to the gun show with my second purchase permit in hand, I was out there looking for a revolver with a good bit of size to it.

This handsome revolver jumped off the table at me... not literally, but you get my point. It was sitting on a box at one of the first tables I came across when entering the show. This was also my first gun show, so I didn't know how to work a gun show, either. LOL! Knowing how to work a gun show is a skill learned quickly, believe me.

I remember the day well because it took me 45 minutes to decide to buy this guy. Right next to it was another gorgeous revolver. I haven't got a clue anymore what it was, but it looked very similar to this one but with a light colored wood grip. It was also a 44 magnum. It's amazing what goes on in your mind when you fall in love with two guns sitting next to each other, both in calibers you've never shot and really don't know much about. As time has proven, my love for large frames has also given way to my love of large calibers. But something may have told me the future would be bleak at best with that 44 magnum... it would be only a few years later that I'd break my wrist (thanks to a large caliber handgun in a small frame) and be unable to shoot it.

Somehow, common sense won out over beauty. That 44 magnum was, by far, the better looking gun. High polished with stunning grips, it had the same price tag as the blander looking one I chose. But I chose the the 686 and never looked back. Much. I will admit I still think about that 44 magnum, but this revolver has never let me down.

I kept the price tag, too. I don't know why, but it is still in the box. $373, NIB. A smile point, since the current listed price at galleryofguns.com is $715.90. 

I'll discuss gun show shopping tactics sometime in the future, probably on the main page. I've learned a lot since then, and with a little practice, you actually CAN get a deal at a gun show.  

First Owned Gun: Sig Sauer P226 "Breakin' Hearts and Takin' Names"

As I mentioned in the first post in this blog section, the issued revolver for my armored car job - the Ruger GP100, "Fluffy" - gave up the ghost during my job. Not being replaced by the company, I was left with a broken gun I was still expected to somehow qualify with. At this point, I had been seriously considering purchasing my own handgun. The death of "Fluffy" just sped things up a little.

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.

First Gun: "Fluffy"

Only known photograph of "Fluffy" below:

This Ruger GP100 was doomed from the get go, but will forever have a special place in my heart. "Fluffy," as we so lovingly called it, is the one to blame for all of this.

Many moons ago I accepted a job with an armored car company. No, not the military armored vehicles. We were a rag tag bunch of rent-a-cops on armored vans hauling money around the state for banks. "Armed UPS delivery people" we referred to ourselves. It was my first job when I graduated college, and the first job I had upon leaving my home state of New Jersey for my new home in North Carolina.

It was also the first gun I had ever held, let alone fired.

My introduction to guns came from the required course in firearms handling for that company. It was a lengthy class taught by a retired soldier, and we learned safe handling, care, and how to shoot the guns. The first time I fired Fluffy was my first time shooting a gun, and that first time was for keeps. I was shooting to keep my job. By state regulations, we had to shoot with 80% accuracy to be allowed the license to carry on the job.

I am not ashamed to admit to you all that the first round I fired - a nice little 38 spl wad cutter - hit the target of a retired State Trooper shooting in the position next to me. Little did I know that one round would change my life. I was terrified on that shooting line, and that first round had me convinced that I was going to fail to qualify and would be out of a job.

Upon the request of the instructor, I took my place finally and did it for keeps. When the day was over, I had scored 86%. As I tell people, the instructor, Max, was about 50 feet tall, and I was too scared to fail!

Fluffy became my faithful companion for a year, and was named by my co-workers. I practiced with it weekly, spending my free time at the local firing range I would be employed at three years later. The people at that range knew me well... I was the girl with the revolver in the little red tool box.

It was almost one year to the day that Fluffy gave up the ghost. During my range time, the firing pin broke. Not being my personal weapon, it was up to the company to fix or replace. Fluffy was deemed scrap metal but the company decided not to replace it. Being stuck with a gun that now did not fire, the wheels began turning on the person sitting before the screen right now.

I headed out to that range the next week with my paycheck in hand. Fluffy was to be replaced with the first gun in a parade that I own.

We all have to start somewhere. I began this blog with the intention of helping shooters of all levels. I am especially interested in new shooters, as you will eventually see. Yes, I'll have plenty for the seasoned shooter here, too. But I want anyone who is considering picking up a gun for the first time - or a shooter with a gun who may be apprehensive about going to the range for the first time - to read this post again. I want you to understand that my first time shooting a gun I was terrified! I didn't think I could do it. My morale was so low everyone had counted me out. I shot someone else's target, for word's sake!  And I am willing to admit all of that time and time again. I tell every new shooter who comes to me for help about shooting someone else's target that day. Why? Because as I said... we all have to start somewhere. No one is born an excellent shot. Not everyone will become a world class shooter. But if you try, you can get far fast. Listen to your instructors. Take that chance. Our sport is a fun one. It has many sides to it. And me? I've gone from the scared girl with the old revolver shooting someone's target to a girl with her own huge revolver and then some, shooting in various matches. I've gone from not knowing how to hold a gun to building them. I've gone from shooting to keep my job to shooting because I love it. And I dare say that if Max even remembered me, he'd be proud.