My Grandpa bought me a pony when I turn four and my uncle gave me his old cap guns to go along with it.
Th next year at Christmas, Pops gave me a Red Ryder BB gun and I had shot through the one little turkey baster thing of BBs he gave me too by that afternoon.
Subsquently lost said BB gun for a month after taking a pot shot at one of my sister's barbies. Wasn't sure if it was for shooting at the barbie or doing so inside the house.
When my Grandpa died the next year, he left me his Remington Sportsman 58. Pops broke it down, re-did the wood on it, had it re-blued, reassembled it, cleaned it, and put it in the safe.
When I turned ten, I got a 10/22 for Christmas and while shooting it the backyard, Pops went inside and brought out Grandpa's gun and lt m shoot som clays with it. Already hooked because of my Red Ryder, but now I was hooked for life.
"Growing up as both a Southern and the son of a child of the '50s, I was imprinted with several things that have long stuck with me. The F-86 Saber Jet was the finest fighter ever flown, the National League is always superior, and Leslie Coffelt
was the finest revovler shooter since Mr. Ed."