He started me shooting when I was 10.
That was my first “my own gun”.
[frankly, I’d have preferred he handed over the Ruger but that wasn’t gonna happen]
He made up for it later.
He gave me his 1966 Centennial Winchester 30.30 with all the gold plated fittings because a 30.30 was what I grew up hunting with.
Still in the original fancy box and has never been shot.
It’s too pretty to shoot.
:)
[I just go out back and plink the crap outta stuff with the and the Beretta 9mm. Fun fun fun!]
Um, at least I ~used~ to until I lost all our guns in a horrible boating accident.
*ahem*
My dad had all of his hunting rifles and shotguns in the front closet. I dared not touch them unless he said so. He used to shoot meat from the road in 1960 from the McKinley area. That was our meat as only dry goods and condensed milk was obtained from Anchorage every 5 months.