So as I was walking through the pitiful excuse of a show last weekend, I stumbled across this broken down old pony that had been put out to pasture long, long ago. I brought the old girl home and gave her an oil bath, followed by a brush down to get the years of abuse and crud off of the beautiful old horse underneath. After I dried her off I had a beautiful and proud pony that was ready to go back out into the world and strut her stuff. It was a poor sight indeed when I found it on the table. Almost entirely covered in rust, the barrel completely blocked with debris and the chambers covered in corrosion. I could barely make out that it was a Colt laying there. It was so bad, I started to walk away shaking my head, but something called me back. I had to save it. Now, when I sit in a darkened, quiet room and hold it in my hands, I can see faint visions of a time long past... and ghosts whisper in my ear. My new prize pony! An 1876 Colt SAA.