Big Bend stories - 01/27/18
I kinda hosed up hanco's thread about "who's from Texas" and I didn't mean to mess it up. Hope I didn't piss anyone off too badly.
The subject of the Big Bend is one that I really like. Anyone who has spent any time there would know why. There is just something about that area that can't be adequately described---only experienced. There's something about it that brings out things in a person you might never have known was there. I was lucky enough to spend four years of my life in that area. This is one of my stories from those days...here goes:
________________________
During my time at Sul Ross State University beginning in 1985 I met many people and made some good friends. One of those friends, who I'll refer to only as "Gibby," won a raffle for a new four-inch S&W Model 19.
Gibby has family in the area, and one of his cousins owned a ranch outside of Valentine. Some time after winning the Model 19, he cooked up a javelina hunting expedition on the ranch. There was a core group of about five of us, and an additional character or three who went on this trip. We camped on the ranch where there was a spring-fed pool, which we took advantage of during the heat of the day. At that time I owned only two firearms, a snubby .22 revolver and a Ruger Mark II. Gibby had asked me if I wanted to carry his new Model 10 and of course I accepted the offer. When it came time to hunt I strapped it on and we set off walking the hills in search of javelina.
As we walked through the hills I'd reach down and touch the grip of the revolver occasionally. After an hour or so, I reached down one more time and the SOB wasn't there. All of us walked around the area for a while and it was never found...supposedly. I suspect one of the outsiders may have found it and said nothing, but I'll never know for sure. Needless to say, I felt terrible and promised Gibby I'd make good on it someday. My resources were awfully thin in those days and this happened only a few months before my departure to Ely, Nevada to take a position with the Bureau of Land Management.
So the years went by. After a family tragedy I found myself living in El Paso again. One day I wandered into a gunshop there, and spied a very nice looking and probably unfired New Model Blackhawk in .41 Mag. The price tag said $205. I tried to not show any eagerness and asked the guy behind the counter if they could do any better on the price, and the look on his face expressed shock that I would even ask (not a totally unexpected reaction). Before he answered I said "I'll take it." It went home with me.
Being a NM, the trigger pull was horrendous as they usually are. I had learned that a little work with a file and stones would usually improve them, but you had to be careful...of course. So I got to work, reassembled, and put it away. After consuming a few beers while watching the tube, I decided to see if I could improve it. I did, it was good and I put it away again. Then I had several more beers...and then I decided I could improve it still more and that's when it all went to hell. I had removed so much metal the bastard wouldn't even stay cocked.
At that point I was pissed off at myself. I was definitely feeling no pain, but I knew I had exercised no judgement at all. I was going to have to acquire a new hammer, and this was in the days before the internet and it would be a PITA. I decided I'd just file a notch in the hammer so I could at least just shoot it until I got a new hammer, and that's what I did---and with little care or caution. I just picked a place and filed the crap out of it a few strokes. When I reassembled it and tried it out I was astounded. It was absolutely perfect, or at least as close to it as you can get with a NM Blackhawk, and the cylinder timing and lockup was fully functional. I couldn't (and would not even try to) do that again.
So, a couple of days later I thought about the javelina hunt and the lost (or at least gone) Model 19 and my friend Gibby. I knew his sister was living in El Paso so I looked her up in the phone book and called her. She said Gibby just happened to be in El Paso and gave me a phone number. I called him and told him he should drop by because I had something for him. He showed up and I put the .41 in his hands. The value of the Blackhawk certainly didn't match the Model 19, but he never expected to be repaid so he was pretty tickled. He said he would pass it on to his son when he got a little older.
About six or seven years ago I got to speak with Gibby. I asked him if his son had that Blackhawk. I could tell Gibby was reluctant to tell me, but that .41 had been swapped or something. I count that as another gun LOST, but don't know what to do about it. Maybe someday I'll meet Gibby's son. If I do, something tells me there will be something appropriate as a gift for the occasion..
The subject of the Big Bend is one that I really like. Anyone who has spent any time there would know why. There is just something about that area that can't be adequately described---only experienced. There's something about it that brings out things in a person you might never have known was there. I was lucky enough to spend four years of my life in that area. This is one of my stories from those days...here goes:
________________________
During my time at Sul Ross State University beginning in 1985 I met many people and made some good friends. One of those friends, who I'll refer to only as "Gibby," won a raffle for a new four-inch S&W Model 19.
Gibby has family in the area, and one of his cousins owned a ranch outside of Valentine. Some time after winning the Model 19, he cooked up a javelina hunting expedition on the ranch. There was a core group of about five of us, and an additional character or three who went on this trip. We camped on the ranch where there was a spring-fed pool, which we took advantage of during the heat of the day. At that time I owned only two firearms, a snubby .22 revolver and a Ruger Mark II. Gibby had asked me if I wanted to carry his new Model 10 and of course I accepted the offer. When it came time to hunt I strapped it on and we set off walking the hills in search of javelina.
As we walked through the hills I'd reach down and touch the grip of the revolver occasionally. After an hour or so, I reached down one more time and the SOB wasn't there. All of us walked around the area for a while and it was never found...supposedly. I suspect one of the outsiders may have found it and said nothing, but I'll never know for sure. Needless to say, I felt terrible and promised Gibby I'd make good on it someday. My resources were awfully thin in those days and this happened only a few months before my departure to Ely, Nevada to take a position with the Bureau of Land Management.
So the years went by. After a family tragedy I found myself living in El Paso again. One day I wandered into a gunshop there, and spied a very nice looking and probably unfired New Model Blackhawk in .41 Mag. The price tag said $205. I tried to not show any eagerness and asked the guy behind the counter if they could do any better on the price, and the look on his face expressed shock that I would even ask (not a totally unexpected reaction). Before he answered I said "I'll take it." It went home with me.
Being a NM, the trigger pull was horrendous as they usually are. I had learned that a little work with a file and stones would usually improve them, but you had to be careful...of course. So I got to work, reassembled, and put it away. After consuming a few beers while watching the tube, I decided to see if I could improve it. I did, it was good and I put it away again. Then I had several more beers...and then I decided I could improve it still more and that's when it all went to hell. I had removed so much metal the bastard wouldn't even stay cocked.
At that point I was pissed off at myself. I was definitely feeling no pain, but I knew I had exercised no judgement at all. I was going to have to acquire a new hammer, and this was in the days before the internet and it would be a PITA. I decided I'd just file a notch in the hammer so I could at least just shoot it until I got a new hammer, and that's what I did---and with little care or caution. I just picked a place and filed the crap out of it a few strokes. When I reassembled it and tried it out I was astounded. It was absolutely perfect, or at least as close to it as you can get with a NM Blackhawk, and the cylinder timing and lockup was fully functional. I couldn't (and would not even try to) do that again.
So, a couple of days later I thought about the javelina hunt and the lost (or at least gone) Model 19 and my friend Gibby. I knew his sister was living in El Paso so I looked her up in the phone book and called her. She said Gibby just happened to be in El Paso and gave me a phone number. I called him and told him he should drop by because I had something for him. He showed up and I put the .41 in his hands. The value of the Blackhawk certainly didn't match the Model 19, but he never expected to be repaid so he was pretty tickled. He said he would pass it on to his son when he got a little older.
About six or seven years ago I got to speak with Gibby. I asked him if his son had that Blackhawk. I could tell Gibby was reluctant to tell me, but that .41 had been swapped or something. I count that as another gun LOST, but don't know what to do about it. Maybe someday I'll meet Gibby's son. If I do, something tells me there will be something appropriate as a gift for the occasion..