In the summer of 1984 I was building my house way out in the sticks.
Two guys would come over to help. The nearest neighbor, an unemployed architect that had worked at CCI, came over with 30 pounds of old American Rifleman magazines.
My wife was expecting construction to get done every day, but sometimes we mostly read those magazines, or shot at any crow that flew near the house.
Back then the articles were fairly technical.
Gun rags on the rack at the grocery store today are nowhere near as good as those old American Rifleman were.
