Well, I made it out. Carried Dad's 760 '06. About 10am after a missed opportunity at a decent racked buck earlier, I took a nice little 8 pt with one of my better/more challenging shots I've ever taken. 165gr Sierra loaded by Dad flopped him over. Gun was deep cleaned, rubbed down with preservation wax, the other 19 shells in the box were taped shut until my 5 y/o is big enough to use "PawPaw's" gun. I shed a bunch of tears, but they felt good

"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, used up, worn out, bottle of Jim Beam in one hand and a .45 in the other, loudly proclaiming WOW-- What a Ride!"