A tale of 'firsts' - Ruger Blackhawk .41
Mar 22, 2014 14:07:56 GMT -8
CoRnhOlio, Fukurai, and 2 more like this
Post by Deleted on Mar 22, 2014 14:07:56 GMT -8
--This Ruger Blackhawk .41 has been around a while. I believe this model started being manufactured in the late sixties. My Grandpa purchased it around 1970. My Dad grew up around this gun. In fact, it was the first handgun he ever fired. Being around the age of 10, he was quite surprised and scared by the kick and volume. He has on occasion enjoyed telling a story about it almost hitting him in the face the first time he pulled the trigger. Talking to him today about it, he said "that gun scared the CRAP out of me! I almost dropped the damned thing!"
--Grandpa loved this revolver. He shot it a lot. For a long time it was his go-to home defense weapon. I remember, when I was very young, maybe 5 or 6, I awoke to the sound of someone trying to get into my bedroom window. I saw a large broad-shouldered silhouette on the curtains. This was terrifying. I ran to my Grandparent’s room, and told them. My Grandpa grabbed this revolver out of the closet, and went charging out the front door with a determined look on his face, while my Grandma gathered my sister and I together in the hallway. I heard my Grandpas booming voice commanding this shadowy character to freeze (then some sort of threat I couldn’t understand). I was terrified. This was the first time I realized my Grandpa was very scary when his family is threatened. Luckily for everyone (especially that man), he meant no harm and my Grandpa gave him a chance to speak. Turned out he was a young Marine from Camp Pendleton who was trying to find my 21yr old cousin who he’d previously had relations with, and had been staying with us temporarily. If he had gone one window to the left (where she was staying), he might have got what he came for. If he had gone one window to the right, he would have been waking up my Grandpa directly.
--I first handled this revolver when I was about 9, give or take a year. I remember walking by my Grandparents room, in our house in San Clemente CA, and seeing my Grandpa sitting on the foot of his bed, wiping it down and looking it over in a caring fashion. Of course, I was intrigued. I grew up around firearms, watched ridiculous amounts of 'shootem-up' movies (Grandpas words), and had tons of toy guns that I played with daily. Dart guns, water guns, cap guns, lego guns, cardboard guns, rubber band guns, BB guns, etc.
--So my eyes lit up, and I walked in to get a closer look. My Grandpa asked me if I wanted to see it, with a slight grin on his face. With the bulging eyes of a kid on Christmas morning about to dig into a pile of presents, I said "yeaaaah" in a low almost whispering voice. He handed it to me, unloaded of course.......this was the first firearm I ever held.
--I was shocked by the weight of it. I had no idea how heavy a real gun was. I was also beside myself with excitement. As I flipped it over to look at the other side, I turned the barrel towards my Grandpa. This was my first lesson in firearm safety.
--His hand shot out SO fast, that I nearly jumped out of my skin. He quickly grabbed the gun and pointed it away from him. He leaned in very close and said in a very deep and stern voice "NEVER point a weapon at someone unless you intend to shoot them. DOES'NT MATTER if it’s unloaded. ALWAYS keep the barrel pointed in a safe direction.". Of course this stuck with me. It’s been the single most influential experience to me, in regards to firearm safety. I never thought to ask him, but part of me thinks he may have known it was going to go down exactly like that, and that he knew it would be the perfect time to get that very important rule engrained into my head.
--My Wife and I moved from southern California to Texas in 2007. I arrived here on July 3rd, one day before my Grandpas birthday. That’s right; he was born on the 4th of July! My wife and I went to visit him and the rest of the family for his birthday. As per usual, my Grandpas birthday was a big deal. Plenty of people, lots of scotch, beer, cigars, BBQ and tons of bullshitting. At some point Grandpa asks me “do you have a pistol for home defense?” I told him no. “Every man needs a firearm to protect his home” he said. He brought me back into his office and pulled out the .41 and handed it to me “until you can afford to buy your own” he said. This was the first time I possessed a firearm for home defense. Maybe silly to some, but in a way I felt more a man than I ever had before at the point when my Grandpa handed me that revolver to take home.
--My Grandpa passed away at 87 years old, March 2nd of 2014. As such things tend to happen, his children laid claims to most all of his possessions. At least the things my Grandma has no desire to keep for now. Of course, my Grandpa’s small but interesting firearm collection got the most attention from his three sons. My uncles and Dad very quickly put their names on the stuff they wanted. Actually they had started trying to work that out well before Grandpa was gone. Seems sad, but at least there hasn’t been any fighting. Of course, being that my Grandpa raised me and I was close to him, I felt the need to have SOMETHING of his to remember him by. Hoping for some sort of item that he loved, because that would be more special to me. I kept my mouth shut mostly, because I didn’t want to take part in the claim game…..and because I know my thoughts on the matter would'nt weigh as much in the situation. Nevertheless, I passingly mentioned the .41 to my Dad. Just asking who had claimed it. Long story-a little less long: my Uncles and Dad decided I should have it, since it has particular sentimental value to me.
So, in closing, this is my very first wheelgun.
--Grandpa loved this revolver. He shot it a lot. For a long time it was his go-to home defense weapon. I remember, when I was very young, maybe 5 or 6, I awoke to the sound of someone trying to get into my bedroom window. I saw a large broad-shouldered silhouette on the curtains. This was terrifying. I ran to my Grandparent’s room, and told them. My Grandpa grabbed this revolver out of the closet, and went charging out the front door with a determined look on his face, while my Grandma gathered my sister and I together in the hallway. I heard my Grandpas booming voice commanding this shadowy character to freeze (then some sort of threat I couldn’t understand). I was terrified. This was the first time I realized my Grandpa was very scary when his family is threatened. Luckily for everyone (especially that man), he meant no harm and my Grandpa gave him a chance to speak. Turned out he was a young Marine from Camp Pendleton who was trying to find my 21yr old cousin who he’d previously had relations with, and had been staying with us temporarily. If he had gone one window to the left (where she was staying), he might have got what he came for. If he had gone one window to the right, he would have been waking up my Grandpa directly.
--I first handled this revolver when I was about 9, give or take a year. I remember walking by my Grandparents room, in our house in San Clemente CA, and seeing my Grandpa sitting on the foot of his bed, wiping it down and looking it over in a caring fashion. Of course, I was intrigued. I grew up around firearms, watched ridiculous amounts of 'shootem-up' movies (Grandpas words), and had tons of toy guns that I played with daily. Dart guns, water guns, cap guns, lego guns, cardboard guns, rubber band guns, BB guns, etc.
--So my eyes lit up, and I walked in to get a closer look. My Grandpa asked me if I wanted to see it, with a slight grin on his face. With the bulging eyes of a kid on Christmas morning about to dig into a pile of presents, I said "yeaaaah" in a low almost whispering voice. He handed it to me, unloaded of course.......this was the first firearm I ever held.
--I was shocked by the weight of it. I had no idea how heavy a real gun was. I was also beside myself with excitement. As I flipped it over to look at the other side, I turned the barrel towards my Grandpa. This was my first lesson in firearm safety.
--His hand shot out SO fast, that I nearly jumped out of my skin. He quickly grabbed the gun and pointed it away from him. He leaned in very close and said in a very deep and stern voice "NEVER point a weapon at someone unless you intend to shoot them. DOES'NT MATTER if it’s unloaded. ALWAYS keep the barrel pointed in a safe direction.". Of course this stuck with me. It’s been the single most influential experience to me, in regards to firearm safety. I never thought to ask him, but part of me thinks he may have known it was going to go down exactly like that, and that he knew it would be the perfect time to get that very important rule engrained into my head.
--My Wife and I moved from southern California to Texas in 2007. I arrived here on July 3rd, one day before my Grandpas birthday. That’s right; he was born on the 4th of July! My wife and I went to visit him and the rest of the family for his birthday. As per usual, my Grandpas birthday was a big deal. Plenty of people, lots of scotch, beer, cigars, BBQ and tons of bullshitting. At some point Grandpa asks me “do you have a pistol for home defense?” I told him no. “Every man needs a firearm to protect his home” he said. He brought me back into his office and pulled out the .41 and handed it to me “until you can afford to buy your own” he said. This was the first time I possessed a firearm for home defense. Maybe silly to some, but in a way I felt more a man than I ever had before at the point when my Grandpa handed me that revolver to take home.
--My Grandpa passed away at 87 years old, March 2nd of 2014. As such things tend to happen, his children laid claims to most all of his possessions. At least the things my Grandma has no desire to keep for now. Of course, my Grandpa’s small but interesting firearm collection got the most attention from his three sons. My uncles and Dad very quickly put their names on the stuff they wanted. Actually they had started trying to work that out well before Grandpa was gone. Seems sad, but at least there hasn’t been any fighting. Of course, being that my Grandpa raised me and I was close to him, I felt the need to have SOMETHING of his to remember him by. Hoping for some sort of item that he loved, because that would be more special to me. I kept my mouth shut mostly, because I didn’t want to take part in the claim game…..and because I know my thoughts on the matter would'nt weigh as much in the situation. Nevertheless, I passingly mentioned the .41 to my Dad. Just asking who had claimed it. Long story-a little less long: my Uncles and Dad decided I should have it, since it has particular sentimental value to me.
So, in closing, this is my very first wheelgun.
"
