Stumbled across what might have been my ex-wife's rifle,,,

[THAT Gurl]

Having been married and divorced, this is all you need to have said.

You know, I felt that way about my ex-, too, until I found out he died. (Injuries from a motorcycle wreck. That man never would wear a helmet.) Much as I was really, really pissed at him at the time (and for many years after) I have to admit we were both young and really stupid. I had a hand in the crazy that ruined us just as much as he did. (Now, the aftermath, when he didn't take care of his responsibilities is all on him, but that's another conversation.) Anyway, wherever he is I hope he is at peace and knows I loved him best as I knew how.

Edit: Huh. Will you look at that?? I appear to be mellowing in my old age.

 

[turkeyrun]

I bought my 1st rifle, Browning BL-22 Grade 2, in 1975, $121. My younger brother wanting to shoot with us, bought a Marlin 60, on sale at Walgreens, $38.

My biggest surprise, he still uses that Marlin.

 

[Dr_Strangelove]

I imagine 75% of the people on this thread have never heard of Laugh In! That was a while back. Life was better back then. We were in a hurry to get to where we are today. I wished I would have spent more time enjoying 'back then'.

 

[Dr_Strangelove]

Ex wives and guns... We all have a story.

Mine begins one night when I was 22 years old.

Fresh out of college, my girlfriend and I got an apartment together because we were planning on getting married. That's what you're supposed to do after college, right?

We settled into our new place in central Missouri. It took about three weeks of living with her to regret my decision, but I'd made the commitment, so I decided to suck it up.

Billy Ray Cyrus was coming to town to play at a local honky-tonk, and I was excited for a night out. That afternoon, I went to my local gun shop and bought a brand new Colt .357 with a 6" barrel and a brushed nickel finish. It had a walnut handle and was beautiful! I took it to the range and ran 50 rounds through it.

As I was leaving, I noticed a new line of ammo the shop had just received. It was called something dumb like "Intruder" or "Prowler". It was my first encounter with a Hydra-Shok round—a jacketed bullet with a small pin in the center of the hollow point. The guy at the counter claimed it could stop a pissed-off grizzly bear, so naturally, I had to have it.

While sitting in my truck and admiring my new gun, I opened the box of ammo. The shiny cartridges gleamed in the sunlight. I took one out. The round slid smoothly into the chamber, and the cylinder made that satisfying 'click' when I closed it. I imagined a 12-foot grizzly bear standing on its hind legs, coming at me. I blasted him, took him down with one shot. "I feel sorry for the idiot who tries to break into my house," I thought. Realizing it was getting late and the concert would be starting soon, I headed home.

The concert itself was a blur. Billy Ray was three sheets to the wind by the time he started, and by the end of the night, so was I. At closing time, a group of friends followed us home, and the party continued until 3 am. My girlfriend, usually the sweetest, most bashful girl in the world, couldn't hold her liquor. Give her 3 beers and a three-headed pit viper would emerge—meaner than hell, with a mouth like a traffic-stuck trucker.

After everyone left, I was stuck with Medusa. We stood in the breakfast room, where I had carelessly left the .357 on the table in its black holster. She was yelling at me about something I'd done that night. Then she spotted the gun. Picking it up, she slurred, "I'm going to blow your f***ing head off!"

Before I could react, she had unsnapped the holster and had a grip on the gun. Swaying drunkenly, she raised her arm and pointed it at me. I was standing near the front door, about eight feet from the end of the barrel. Then I heard a click and realized she had pulled back the hammer.

"Put the gun down!" I commanded, hoping to snap her out of her Bud Light-induced insanity. It was then I remembered loading that stupid "Intruder" round while in my truck after leaving the gun shop.

She repeated herself, "I'm gonna blow your f***ing head off!" I looked her straight in the eye, then at her trigger finger. It was pressed against the trigger, the gun aimed right at my chest. I was afraid to make any sudden moves as doing so might startle her and cause her to pull the trigger.

Then I heard it.

The hammer struck the firing pin. She had pulled the trigger. For a millisecond, I waited for a fireball to blast me. I put my hand on my chest and everything was still there. The gun didn't fire, but I was frozen in place, not able to react to what had just happened.

I lunged forward and knocked her to the ground. She immediately let go of the gun. After berating her for about 10 seconds, I went silent. I just couldn't say anything more.

By the grace of Almighty God, I unloaded that gun before I holstered it. During the heat of the moment, I couldn't remember if I had removed the round before driving home, but thankfully, I did.

I'm not one of those guys who sleeps with a loaded gun under the mattress. There are too many things that can go wrong.

That night, I learned that the last thing a person hears before being shot and killed is the hammer striking the firing pin—an unforgettable sound. Even if the bullet kills a person instantly, they still hear that sound.

What else did I learn? Don't give Amy alcohol.

Inexplicably, instead of breaking up with her and moving out the next day, I married her.

Thirteen years later, I'd finally had enough. The day I told her I was leaving for good, I agreed to give her the house and everything in it—and I did, except for my clothes, shaving kit, and that Colt .357.

 

[capnkirk462]

I was stationed at Lowry in '89 for Tech School for 4 or so months, what a great base it was.

 

[Dadfish]

I had my first wife in my phone as ‘Medusa”. Not terribly cool for your kid to see. ROFL.