Is not my most expensive gun, my best shooting gun, or one I'm likely to use much... Pics first, then the reason.
1959 Winchester Model 50 - semi auto 12guage, full choke, 28" barrel:
My dad bought this, and his brother an identical match, in 1960 when they were both doing a fair bit of upland game. They were both young, single, and making half decent money for the first time in their lives. And they still had to trade in a few beaters to afford them.
I came along about 11 years later, and my dad was in full career swing, and wasn't hunting anymore. I can't remember when I first saw it, but the entire time I was growing up, it was there, propped up in the corner of the master closet, protected in its leather case. I probably first noticed it during a game of hide and seek or some such.
I can only remember him shooting it once or twice, just blasting a few pop tins at my uncle's farm, and even though I spent a lot of time shooting .22s, and later a random assortment of levers and bolts and semis, and even a few shotguns. But mostly they were always my uncle's guns. I only ever got around to shooting dad's shotgun a couple times, and to be honest, there were usually better guns lying around when I was out visiting the farm.
But at home it was always there, propped up in the corner of the closet, like some magical talisman.
I went off to University, then proceeded to have a "very good time" through the rest of my 20's. I was just starting to get my head on straight in my early 30's when my mom and dad move to Vancouver Island for the retirement life. It was the early 2k's, the registry crap was at its height, and I hadn't mentioned it for years, wasn't doing any shooting, so the shotgun (and a few rifles that he had picked up since I moved out - so I really didn't care about them) drifted off "into the family."
I didn't find that out until a few years later, and it was hard to keep the sour grapes to myself, but what could I say? I didn't even have my permits then. I was just kind of inwardly shocked that he'd let it go. I just couldn't imagine him not having it, as much as anything. It was always just there.
A dozen years pass, and I'm getting more and more into shooting. My wild oats are long sewn, and I'm settled down with a wife, kid, and white picket fence. Seriously, I have the best maintained white picket fence on the block.
I was out visiting a cousin this morning at his acreage. Nothing much, just keeping our kids in touch (they're all withing a couple years of each other), and when I walked back around the front of the house after lunch. There it was. Still in that same leather case I remember growing up, only this time sitting across the trunk of my car. I was kinda choked up. I really didn't expect to ever see it again.
But my cousin just figured I should have it. It was my dad's gun, he wasn't using it, had kinda forgotten he had it actually (he has somewhere north of 30 shotguns and un-numbered rifles).
So, I'll be heading into the garage to work some wood this summer, I think. Not sure what I'm going to make, but I'll do what I can. And put some serious effort into it. How can you thank a cousin for holding onto the most valuable gun in the world for you?
1959 Winchester Model 50 - semi auto 12guage, full choke, 28" barrel:
My dad bought this, and his brother an identical match, in 1960 when they were both doing a fair bit of upland game. They were both young, single, and making half decent money for the first time in their lives. And they still had to trade in a few beaters to afford them.
I came along about 11 years later, and my dad was in full career swing, and wasn't hunting anymore. I can't remember when I first saw it, but the entire time I was growing up, it was there, propped up in the corner of the master closet, protected in its leather case. I probably first noticed it during a game of hide and seek or some such.
I can only remember him shooting it once or twice, just blasting a few pop tins at my uncle's farm, and even though I spent a lot of time shooting .22s, and later a random assortment of levers and bolts and semis, and even a few shotguns. But mostly they were always my uncle's guns. I only ever got around to shooting dad's shotgun a couple times, and to be honest, there were usually better guns lying around when I was out visiting the farm.
But at home it was always there, propped up in the corner of the closet, like some magical talisman.
I went off to University, then proceeded to have a "very good time" through the rest of my 20's. I was just starting to get my head on straight in my early 30's when my mom and dad move to Vancouver Island for the retirement life. It was the early 2k's, the registry crap was at its height, and I hadn't mentioned it for years, wasn't doing any shooting, so the shotgun (and a few rifles that he had picked up since I moved out - so I really didn't care about them) drifted off "into the family."
I didn't find that out until a few years later, and it was hard to keep the sour grapes to myself, but what could I say? I didn't even have my permits then. I was just kind of inwardly shocked that he'd let it go. I just couldn't imagine him not having it, as much as anything. It was always just there.
A dozen years pass, and I'm getting more and more into shooting. My wild oats are long sewn, and I'm settled down with a wife, kid, and white picket fence. Seriously, I have the best maintained white picket fence on the block.
I was out visiting a cousin this morning at his acreage. Nothing much, just keeping our kids in touch (they're all withing a couple years of each other), and when I walked back around the front of the house after lunch. There it was. Still in that same leather case I remember growing up, only this time sitting across the trunk of my car. I was kinda choked up. I really didn't expect to ever see it again.
But my cousin just figured I should have it. It was my dad's gun, he wasn't using it, had kinda forgotten he had it actually (he has somewhere north of 30 shotguns and un-numbered rifles).
So, I'll be heading into the garage to work some wood this summer, I think. Not sure what I'm going to make, but I'll do what I can. And put some serious effort into it. How can you thank a cousin for holding onto the most valuable gun in the world for you?
.
