My Dad hunted whitetail and duck, but didn't shoot much otherwise. But he got me into guns with a lapse of judgment. One day in '56, my father and one of my uncles were shooting my dad's new 12 ga 11-48 behind my grandfather's house. It was the first brand new gun my father had ever purchased. I wanted to shoot the gun and kept pestering. Brat, would be the technical term. Finally my father gave in and let me give it a try. I couldn't hold up the 30" bbl, so my father held the forend while I pointed it in the general direction of a yellow lard can and pulled the trigger.

The recoil knocked me on my butt and I was hooked for life! It was the original "E Ticket" ride.

It didn't work out so well for my Dad, however. My Mother was doing dishes and happened to be looking out the kitchen window when this little physics lesson was taking place. I do believe they may have discussed the matter later.

The conversation must have made an impression on my father. In '63, when Dad and I were going over the Shooter's Bible for the umteenth time looking for my first deer rifle, I said that I was leaning toward a Marlin 336 in 35 Rem. Dad's eyes bulged out and he said "God no, it kicks too much". I ended up with a 243 Win.