Sunday, December 25, 2011

This Year's Gift To Myself

Most of my comrades support the 2nd Amendment and are thus tolerant of my frequent firearm purchasing binges. They know I can't pass up a good deal. Even if it isn't exactly practical, like two years ago when I ordered five thousand 62 gr 5.56mm bullets for my reloading bench. Turns out the box was so big it would not fit inside of my components safe. My solution was perfectly logical to other shooters- go to the range and shoot as much stored 5.56mm ammo I had so I could reload the brass with my huge stash of 5.56mm bullets. Thus the fewer the bullets, the smaller the box I need to store them in. Ergo, the new box will fit in the safe. I'm still working on that solution...
This holiday season was no exception. After two months on the front lines of The War On Christmas with my fellow Far Left conspirators, sabotaging Santa's sleigh and sodomizing various barnyard animals in nativity displays, I decided I deserved to treat myself. I was combing the local gun shops, seeing nothing special on the shelves. What? Yet another variation of the M1911? Yawn.
Elbowing my way through crowds of little bald macho dudes showing off in front of their leather faced fiftysomething girlfriends at the Glock display, I made my way towards the much less crowded surplus firearm section of the store. There were a couple of aging and overweight militia types, decked out in the latest digital camo fashion, hauling crates of ancient Mosin- Nagant rifles over to the register. I breezed past them, classifying them as Mostly Harmless.
I ignored the various overpriced AKs, ARs, H-Ks, etc. and headed for the used handgun section. Now I am sort of on the fence when it comes to the great semi- auto vs. revolver debate, but when it comes down to it there is something old- school sexy about a revolver. Sam Spade, Elliot Ness, or any other detective from the classic film noir period of the 1940s and 50s carried revolvers. Then there is the whole Zen of swinging out the cylinder and dropping another six rounds into the chambers. Hollywood has tried to make slapping a magazine ( the ignorant refer to them as " clips" ) into the butt of a semi- automatic look sexy but the hero usually squinches up his face when doing it, and appears to be in the process of pinching a loaf. It ain't the same, baby.
So back to the used revolver display. I see a Webley in pretty decent shape, and priced accordingly. Numerous Colt Police Specials- nice, but again priced well above the $500 dollar mark. I want a deal, dammit.
So then I come across some Taurus revolvers, Model of 82. Brazilian police surplus, caliber .38 Special. Holy crap, these poor guns look like they have been run over by a tank. The bluing on the barrels are worn down by holster wear. The grips looked like a bored dog had been gnawing on them. But they were priced accordingly: $ 169.00. This required a closer look.
I called the clerk over and asked to handle one of the revolvers. With one in my hand I checked the bore, the cylinder, and tested out the hammer. Everything checked out. I had to have it and bought it.
Other guys were putting layways on $1,000.00 + M1911s, the latest 9mms with 30 round magazines ( again, don't call them " clips", dummy ), or Berettas tricked out with a dozen " tacticool" items. Me, I paid in cash and walked out the door with my ugly duckling. I was shooting it on the same day I first saw it.
How did my beat up Model 82 do? It exceeded my expectations in every category. The chewed up grips fitted my hand nicely. The Model 82 is well balanced and solidly built, so its a little heavy for a revolver in .38 Special. But that keeps recoil minimal, so its a plus. The trigger pull is a little mushy, but no big deal. Double action firing is remarkably smooth. At 7 yards, three shot groups easily stayed within 2".
All in all, this was a great deal. And nothing gives me more holiday cheer than a good deal.
Merry Christmas, Comrades!

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