My first rifle was a Browning SA22, a very cool old design especially for a rim-fire weapon, with a take down threaded barrel to bore connection and bottom ejection, light weight, high capacity, just fun by any standard. I still have it, and a second, in my gun safe. For nostalgia, I kept the original unmolested, which was used when I was given it at 12 years old, unmolested. It was my go-to plinker for shooting jack rabbits along the Edwards Air Base fence line in Mojave at a place called Black Water Wells. The second carries a red-dot. Both in my “never let go”, hand me down stack.
I always think the “how” is cool in first guns. In my case it was a gift from my Father’s best friend, an eccentric attorney in LA, my dad gave him his first job and helped pay for law school, and their friendship, and our family connection, was deep. We were having a big family gathering at our house, very modest digs but a lot of land, simple fair and lots of beer, and one of my older cousins was doing something to piss me off, teasing me or whatever, he was in college, and I popped him hard in the jaw and took him to his knees, and then I got a couple of other shots in before he kicked my ass hard and was eventually pulled off. My Dad’s friend said if you are man enough to fight, you are man enough to own a gun, with your parents over site and approval, and the next morning he rolled up to our house and dropped it off.
