Salox
Member
Elmer Keith’s first 4” 44 magnum S161577 sent presentation style from Carl Hellstrom on a no charge memo account to Elmer in Salmon, ID, November 16, 1956 with presentation gold shield inlaid stocks. Elmer had the revolver engraved by George Dallas and hand tooled holster designed by Keith through Bohlin Co. Hollywood. The ammunition is from the first 44 Remington Magnum commercial S&W factory ammo run (only sealed box known?) January 5, 1956 and patches are of the early variety. Brass 44 mag and carbine cases inlaid in the bar are my father’s fired brass from his ammo can and honor guard. I placed them there after his passing as he and our long time friend srsmyth helped spark the interest in S&W 44 magnums and outdoorsmanship.
This is the first anniversary of my pops passing, and I’ll share a story about my dad as it brings back memories of this time of year, all the way back to 1997.
I was 16 at the time, and the most dangerous thing in the universe according to the insurance company, a male teenage driver. Well, we have built our reputation. I solidified our stature by claiming an act of intentional bodily harm by a whitetail spike buck deer crossing in front of my 1988 baby blue Ford Taurus in a sibling transportation exercise on the way home from school before returning for cross country practice. The o’l Taurus was not going to be making the return trip as it now was devoid of not one, but two headlights, turn signals, assorted parts, and sundries. The animal was unable to be located as it continued on an unfound trajectory, but there was the mission to complete and practice which to attend.
Inconvenienced was almost worse than furious. The old man was grousing about the situation once the junked car arrived home – “Oh, you have to be more careful, pay more attention, look where you are going, don’t drive to fast, etc. etc. etc.” I state, “Um, dad, I need a ride back into town for practice.” “WHAT!?”, he goes. “Well, you aren’t taking the truck, and I am not sure I have enough time to bring you. When do you have to be there?” I stutter, “soon, like ½ hour.” The subsequent five minutes of making a big production about moving his schedule around and how much he does for us kids (which he did give us all his time and resources) says, “get in the truck.”
Vroom, we start down the road in the red single cab short box 1995 F-150. He continues on about being responsible, taking care of what you own, paying attention, and BLAM!!!!!!! “I didn’t even have time to take my foot off the gas,” he says. The poor doe whitetail careens into the right hand ditch. We stop. I say, “Oh, you have to BE more careful, PAY more attention, LOOK where...” “Shut up, and help me load this in the back,” says my dad. We only made it a few miles. Although I created both situations, ah, sweet karma.
He never ate crow for that one and I never paid for repairs. We stopped into the game warden's place as it wasn't but a half-mile away, and Marty gave a permission slip to keep the deer after a *whistle* looking at the front of the truck. He pulled me out of school for a day and he dumped work so we could fix the vehicles once parts arrived and make potato sausage. It was another great bonding moment we had. I miss him every day.
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