On today's date, I had an appointment in the shop for a possible restoration of a Remington 22 with a hexagon barrel. This appointment was booked by a new customer at 4:15 pm...one of my last appointments available for the day.
I wasn't going to take the appointment as I have been fighting some kind of bug that has been floating around. But, God has a plan and I began to feel better this afternoon.
At 5 til 4 an SUV rolled in with a young man and what appeared to be an older man. The young man parked and strolled up to the shop. He was wearing khaki bib overalls and well work cap and before he came into the shop, I knew we were going to get along.
The maybe early 20 something young man walked in empty handed; I said, "Bring it on in. And if you don't mind, please move your car so my wife can get in." He obliged with a smile.
Minutes later, he walked in with the older gentleman. He introduced himself and the older gentleman that was his grandfather. Both of them shook hands with me with a firm grip and looked me in the eye. I knew....these are my people.
The case they brought in, burgundy in color, probably could have told more stories than I. When I unzipped the case, the smell of Hoppes #9 and stale gunpowder immediately transported me to another place and time.
I opened the case and revealed a Remington Model 12 pump action 22 with some minor surface rust. I noted the wear on the stock; the dents and divots that only come from years of use, and enjoyment.
The grandfather spoke. He said, "I want to give this to him (pointing at his grandson), but I want to make sure it's good to go." I struggled holding back emotion. The young man was giddy, beaming and just as excited as the man next to him.
I took the rifle, loaded it, went out back and shot a few rounds. Came back in and asked the young man what he wanted to do. "Well, I'd like to have it restored...."
"Listen," I said. And I explained to the two the expense involved in bluing and restoration. All the while hoping they would change their minds on the restoration. Why? There was too much history in this rifle to erase.
When I finished explaining my position, I said, "If it were my gun, I'd leave it alone." Grandfather half smiled, and nodded his head.
I lit a cigar (merely due to the situation), and passed off my lighter to them and began using 0000 steel wool and metal polish to take off the surface rust. In the meantime, Grandfather lit up a small cigarillo and began telling me the story behind the gun. After the first few lines, I politely stopped, looked at the young man, and said "Make sure you listen and remember this." He smiled and nodded, as if 'trust me....I'm hanging on every word.'
After the story was complete, I had almost completed the rifle. I asked the young man what his plans were. He beamed, "Squirrel hunting!" Which made Grandfather smile. Grandfather piped up, "I wanted to give this to him while I can still enjoy him using it."
Well, it took a lot to choke back that lump in my throat. I told the story of my great uncle Leo and how he was more of a grandfather to me, and how we used to go hunting. I boasted about his never ending stories and wisdom, but ended it with, "Young man, enjoy this." I couldn't say much more because I'm sure I would have cried in front of my new found friends.
I didn't charge this young man or his grandfather today. The experience was worth more than any amount of money.
I only hope one day when this young man decides to gift this rifle to his grandson, he might include the part of the gunsmith that looked it over with his grandfather.
Thanks for reading.
I wasn't going to take the appointment as I have been fighting some kind of bug that has been floating around. But, God has a plan and I began to feel better this afternoon.
At 5 til 4 an SUV rolled in with a young man and what appeared to be an older man. The young man parked and strolled up to the shop. He was wearing khaki bib overalls and well work cap and before he came into the shop, I knew we were going to get along.
The maybe early 20 something young man walked in empty handed; I said, "Bring it on in. And if you don't mind, please move your car so my wife can get in." He obliged with a smile.
Minutes later, he walked in with the older gentleman. He introduced himself and the older gentleman that was his grandfather. Both of them shook hands with me with a firm grip and looked me in the eye. I knew....these are my people.
The case they brought in, burgundy in color, probably could have told more stories than I. When I unzipped the case, the smell of Hoppes #9 and stale gunpowder immediately transported me to another place and time.
I opened the case and revealed a Remington Model 12 pump action 22 with some minor surface rust. I noted the wear on the stock; the dents and divots that only come from years of use, and enjoyment.
The grandfather spoke. He said, "I want to give this to him (pointing at his grandson), but I want to make sure it's good to go." I struggled holding back emotion. The young man was giddy, beaming and just as excited as the man next to him.
I took the rifle, loaded it, went out back and shot a few rounds. Came back in and asked the young man what he wanted to do. "Well, I'd like to have it restored...."
"Listen," I said. And I explained to the two the expense involved in bluing and restoration. All the while hoping they would change their minds on the restoration. Why? There was too much history in this rifle to erase.
When I finished explaining my position, I said, "If it were my gun, I'd leave it alone." Grandfather half smiled, and nodded his head.
I lit a cigar (merely due to the situation), and passed off my lighter to them and began using 0000 steel wool and metal polish to take off the surface rust. In the meantime, Grandfather lit up a small cigarillo and began telling me the story behind the gun. After the first few lines, I politely stopped, looked at the young man, and said "Make sure you listen and remember this." He smiled and nodded, as if 'trust me....I'm hanging on every word.'
After the story was complete, I had almost completed the rifle. I asked the young man what his plans were. He beamed, "Squirrel hunting!" Which made Grandfather smile. Grandfather piped up, "I wanted to give this to him while I can still enjoy him using it."
Well, it took a lot to choke back that lump in my throat. I told the story of my great uncle Leo and how he was more of a grandfather to me, and how we used to go hunting. I boasted about his never ending stories and wisdom, but ended it with, "Young man, enjoy this." I couldn't say much more because I'm sure I would have cried in front of my new found friends.
I didn't charge this young man or his grandfather today. The experience was worth more than any amount of money.
I only hope one day when this young man decides to gift this rifle to his grandson, he might include the part of the gunsmith that looked it over with his grandfather.
Thanks for reading.
Well done sir
