This is just something I wrote for entertainment. Thought people on this forum might enjoy it. It's kind of a stretch but this IS a gun forum, so here goes....


Mark II

They say that artists are never appreciated until their time has passed. Having little to no interest in art, I can’t speak to that. The closest comparison that I can make is that it seems the art of fatherhood is never appreciated by a man’s son until later in life. I like to think that I was a pretty good kid and, even as a teenager, didn’t rebel to the extent that most do. Even at age 16, I didn’t understand the anger that many of my peers felt toward their fathers because I’d never had reason to be angry.

As the youngest of four boys, I was my dad’s last chance at having a son that enjoyed the outdoors as he did. This led to a lot of hunting and fishing trips and a lot of time with just Dad and me.

I learned most of what I needed to be an honorable man in this time (perhaps I will one day fill a book with these lessons learned) but of course I did not appreciate it at the time. The best example I can give is my 16th birthday present from Dad. While most kids would be wishing for nothing but cash to buy gas with, I was astonished to open my brand new hunting rifle. Man, was it a thing of beauty. Not to bore anyone with too many details but it was a Ruger 7mm Magnum Mark II with a synthetic stock, all stainless steel, and a 3x12 scope. Up until that point I had always borrowed a gun on hunting trips and I remember thinking that I must have finally convinced Dad that one of his sons would keep an interest in hunting. If memory serves me, an elder sibling had received a 30-06 a few years back that sat, untouched, for years. [/font][FONT='Calibri','sans-serif'][/font]
[FONT='Calibri','sans-serif']This gun didn’t sit. In fact, within two weeks I had earned my first speeding ticket while taking the gun out to the country to put another 50 rounds down the tube. This gun accompanied me on all my hunting trips over the next few years, but those trips became less frequent as my weekends were more frequently spent with my girlfriend than tracking deer with Dad.

It was these misguided priorities that forced me to grow up faster than I should have had to. Perhaps it is a story for a different time but suffice it to say that I was an expecting father before the age of 18. To make matters worse, the mother, her family, and my son were going to move 1,000 miles away soon after his birth.

Ironically, it was the relationship that Dad had worked hard to have with me that forced me to move away from him. I knew even at that age that I was one of the lucky ones to have a father who truly cared for me and there was no way that I could leave my son without that.

I have done a lot of things that I’m proud of, and even more that I’m ashamed of. Selling that Ruger to finance my move across the country was definitely a low point that I’ve regretted for 12 years now.

At the time, I was just selling a possession. Now I realize everything that gun represented and everything I wish I would have known then. In this day and age, there are few things manufactured that can last a lifetime. Rifles are still one of those things. I’m willing to bet that Dad had got me such a high quality rifle knowing that it was literally something that I could use forever and pass down to my kids (though I’m sure that he didn’t anticipate the first of those kids was so quickly forthcoming). Besides that, the gun represented the common interest and bond between Dad and me. Never should I have let that go, especially by getting ripped off in some crappy pawn shop. I rationalized it by saying that I either couldn’t or wouldn’t be hunting anymore without Dad there to show me how to succeed (and of course to gut my kill).

Last month I bought my 12-year-old son his first gun and taught him to shoot. It doesn’t compare to that hunting rifle, but it sure is a nice little .22 and I feel proud that I was able to get it for him and teach him the basics. And constantly I think about that 7mm magnum and wish that I could show it to my son and let him know that it would eventually be his when he’s able to handle it. Then I realized that I’m a mere year or two away from having a hunting partner again. I’ll probably have to do the gutting now, that’s a fatherly responsibility and I’ve been taught well.

Of course, I can think of no better rifle for the elk we’ll go after in the Rocky Mountains than a 7mm magnum. Problem is, the Ruger M77 Mark II is discontinued so all I can do is scour the internet. And wouldn’t you know it, last week I found one. It’s identical to the one that accompanied me for those years; For all I know it may be the same serial number. Part of me wants to believe that it is. Regardless, I need to quit rambling. It’s past midnight, and I need to be up in 4 hours so that I can make the 5 hour drive to buy this gun. I can only hope I don’t get a speeding ticket on my way back to the range where I will sight it in (though I suppose that would be fitting).

As I mentioned earlier, I’m far from an art expert. Though I argue that it is an art to effectively teach a stubborn young kid how to be a man. I’m glad that I learned to appreciate this subtle art form while Dad’s still around and I can thank him. I’ll be sure to do that, though perhaps I’ve gotten the message across already. And, by the way, if anyone’s looking for a Ruger stainless 7mm magnum Mark II, keep looking. I only know of one and it’s priceless.