My sister in law has just fallen on the hardest of times, and gave me a small pile of guns to sell for her. There's not much of huge interest in the pile, and they were all horrifically neglected. much of the guns and ammo had been stored under a leaky roof, and had been covered in dog urine.
So, I set about the task of getting the stuff squared away and sellable. Some of it's kinda cool in a retro kinda way. Three Marling Model 60s; One that's good for parts only, one that's fixable, and one that's pristine. Ruger Super Blackhawk, Maverick 88 bear gun. Lots of miscellaneous holsters, ammo, etc.
After I threw stuff away, gave stuff away, and created a suitable sellable pile, I went back out to my vehicle, and found that it still smelled awful. I scratched my head, dug around in there and found a particularly old Ozark Trail type tent bag that clanged softly when I picked it up. I opened it up to find a Winchester 62. I absolutely regret not taking a picture, but it was ORANGE with rust. Absolutely foul. Moving parts did not want to move. I was not happy with any of this, but I was especially upset about this gun. Surely, it meant something to somebody, and now it's just been left in a stinky shed, ruined by rainwater, melting snow, and dog pee?!
It became a labor of love to give this gun the best chance I could. I stayed up all night scrubbing and scrubbing with a dozen various oils, scotchbrite, rags, paper towels, etc. When I was done I had all the rust wiped off, and the pitting was not as awful as expected. Just a bit on the barrel and the front of the receiver. The moving parts seemed to move, and the parts that weren't supposed to move did not. Again, I really wish I had before and after pics.
When I took it out to test fire it, it was a bit unreliable. My daughter actually noticed the sticky firing pin and cleaned out that mechanism, that improved reliability greatly.
A couple days later she and I took it to the river bed to test fire it and shoot a few other .22s. I'm sure y'all know river bed shootin' is a far cry different from shooting at the established range...
As it turned out, my buddy we were riding with got his Jeep stuck and had to catch a ride back to town to get his bigger, badder rig with a winch to unstick it.
My daughter and I were "forced" to stay behind to watch the rig and the guns. It was a wonderful time I hope to always remember! I had 250 rounds or so of CB shorts, and a can for my Henry lever action .22. We sat back there and plinked away at clay pigeons, soda cans, twigs, etc. for a few hours. The Winchester 62 ran flawlessly. I didn't put it on paper, and doubt I ever will, but it seems pretty handy at shooting small bits of clay pigeons and drift wood at random distances, which is plenty good enough for me.
Suffice to say, I sold that Winchester to myself for $500. An insane price for what it was, but the gun is becoming sentimental to me, and my Sister in law is dying of cancer and trying to keep a roof over her head, so...good causes and all that.
Now, here's the weird part. I ran down the serial number, and it indicated that the rifle had been made in 1956. The forearm didn't seem right for a 62A, but...that's what consistently keeps coming up. I pulled the stock and saw that the hammer spring is a leaf spring, NOT a coil spring like the 62A is supposed to have. So...I'm slightly confused about it. Near as I can tell it is a Model 62 that was made well after Winchester updated to the 62A? Whatever it is on paper, it sure is a much loved gun of mine now.
There's just something about a pump .22 that is very grin inducing to me and most everyone I know.
When I was a younger fella, I bought my girlfriend (Wife that I've been with 30 years now) a nickel plated pump Rossi with the first paycheck I earned from bagging groceries. That little thing became legendary among our circle of friends for all of it's enjoyable, impromptu shooting sessions. It always rolled around in the back of her little Ford Escort with a couple hundred rounds of the cheapest ammo a young person could buy. No matter how broke we were, we could always stop at a gas station for a moon pie and a Coke, and find somewhere to sit and plink awhile. Now that I've got the "real McCoy" I hope to re-live those days a bit this Summer.
I hope you enjoy your Winchester 62. As you can probably tell, I think it would be real hard to pay too much for one of those, regardless of what the books or Gunbroker may think.
