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And always saved a box of 22’s for trane tracks lol - being kids it wasmy granddad got me to shoot at the air rifles club when i was able to reach the barrier with standing on the stool for kids - i think about 7 or 8, about after 1980 olympics. the .22lr i shot first about 12, then continued at school around 13 or 14 i think, we had a competition shooting going - so i started to train shooting margolin mcm and rifles. i was never great with pistol precision sports - probably needed more muscles on the arm at the time, but rifles were ok.
and still like precision rifles the best.
You know what they say “you are only as old as you feel”. Granted some days I feel a lot older!You guys are old
In Nigeria ?five
Hartford gun club, before they moved it and put giant hospital on top of it.In Nigeria ?
Being free never got or gets oldYou guys are old
You gotta problem with that? In my best gangster voice......You guys are old
That was us.1963, I was 7ish. My dad had a Ruger Single 6 revolver that I would shoot rats with at the dump
So far, this is the earliest mentioned. You win the internetStevens 22 LR. Around 1951. Maybe sooner.
You damn right.2018 unfortunately which is way later than I should have. Better late than never I suppose.
That makes us right around the same age, learning to shoot around the same time. I still love ringing steel. Especially the long range stuff. So cool seeing the target swing through the scope, then hearing the "ding" a second later.I think 1976/7/8? I was little. My brother put a hubcap on a tree and we had a 22. Nice to get that "instant feedback" when you can hear it hit a hubcap or other thing that makes a noise (or "explodes").
And since it was summer I was either 5, 6, or 7.
I guess my first BB gun was about 1970, I became fairly proficient. When I was ten, my Dad took his Marlin Bolt Action Tube Fed .22 down from above the Mantel. The kid next door was 13 and he had his own .22. He and his Dad had come over to shoot. We had a field out back and a steep hill to shoot into. We set up a bunch of cans. I learned to shoot my BB gun on my own. I never realized I was shooting leftie. My Dad yelling at me, " You're shooting backwards ". So I've got my right finger on the trigger and I'm craning my neck over the stock and lining up the sites with my left eye. Now he's yelling " That"s the wrong eye ". So I'm shooting with my right eye and hitting nothing. The other kid hitting 7 out of 10. After a few rounds, my Dad's telling the other Dad a joke, not paying attention to us. I said screw it, I switched to leftie. 10 out of 10. My Dad says " Finally, shit, you're shooting backwards again, oh the Hell with it ". I was hooked. I still shot my BB gun cause I could rarely get my Dad to let me shoot his rifle. By the time I was 14, I was 5'-10" and I found my Dad's FID card. I hopped on my ten speed and biked the 10 miles to Coleman's Sporting Goods in Danvers. I'd walk up to the back counter like a grown up, hand them my FID card and ride home with my 4 boxes of .22 LR. I'd grab the rifle when nobody was looking and put it back in the same fashion.
Well, it makes you older than me, for ten more days anyway."58" does that make me a fart or just really old pup?
Hell, when I was born, Kennedy was the President, for a few months anyway.1963, I was 7ish. My dad had a Ruger Single 6 revolver that I would shoot rats with at the dump
No, on Lennon Road just past the RR tracks on the right heading to Rt 115. At the time, it was an open pit dump...back your vehicle up to the trench and dump everything in the same pit.Hell, when I was born, Kennedy was the President, for a few months anyway.
Where was the dump, at the end of New Straw Road?
You had a Bowling Alley, city slicker. I grew up in a town of 25 square miles that had a combination Gas Station/Store/Post Office at each end of town that closed at 6:00. They both had Fire Stations & Congo Churches, we had the Town Hall and the Police Station and they had the Grange, Golf Course and an Ice Cream Stand. The Police Station was a one room converted Chicken Coop. The had a closet with a window in it and angle iron over the glass. No Hydrants or Street Lights.That was us.
Grew up in a town of about 1200.
Pre internet or cell phones, the only public entertainment in town was the bowling alley.
We used to carry our .22's and lawn chairs down to the dump , bribe the old fella in the shack with a bottle of beer and sit there all day plinking rats.
If the cops drove down they would just ask how many we got.
I think I know where that was, right across from a logging road that goes all the way to Whitefield. Up where the tracks split, it was called Quebec Junction. That's a 1,000 acre wood lot, I'm jealous. I hope to have 1/3rd that much, I'm at a 1/4 now including all of the family land. I wish you the best in Missouri, but for my own selfish reasons, I wish you'd move back to your home town. It's all about me. This is only the 3rd weekend this year I haven't gone up. I have a stand by generator up there, but a pull start one here that has a fridge and 4 sump pumps to run.No, on Lennon Road just past the RR tracks on the right heading to Rt 115. At the time, it was an open pit dump...back your vehicle up to th ehole and dump everything in the same pit.
The old guy that ran the dump was Charlie Lennon...an old codger that chewed tobbaco, drove around in an old Woody station wagon. He and his wife lived about a mile past the old dump. They had a few kids, older than me...Gene and Ray were a few of them...I think they have passed on recently. They all lived on Lennon Rd at one time or another
That road was called Tank Rd when I was growing up and also the Dump road...tank rd because there was a RR water tank next to a little brook that went behind the dump and under the RR tracks. The tank was used during the age of steam locomotives. There were still remnants of it standing when I was a kid.
We lived at the bottom of Lennon/Tank/Dump Rd about a 1/4 mile south of the intersection of that road and Route 3.
They renamed the road Lennon Rd sometime in the late 70's or early 80's. There were a few Lennons that lived on that road. Charlie blew his brains after he had a pretty massive heart attack and knew he wasn't going to be able live much longer. He was a great guy. He was the one that really taught me to shoot (he always had a .22 revolver hanging on his belt in a holster). He also taught me how to fly fish in Carroll stream behind our house.