mine is a RIGARMI-Brescia cal.6.35<25>
I know I don't have to go into what a 25 is good for, but other than that it has always been guaranteed to jam up every time you shoot it. Scariest thing about it to me is ejecting a live round. As the slide comes back the firing pin is what is used to push against the casing and fling it out with the extractor. It's not worth much and last I checked would bring under $100. But I could never get rid of it because it's a gun with a story that's worth more to me than the gun is.
This gun came from my Grandfather on my mom's side. See my grandfather was the kind that like to, well, drink from many cups. Occasionally that would spell trouble for him. One particular morning it brought a little more trouble than others as he was awakened by a sharp pressure in the middle of his chest. As he opened his eyes what he made out was one of his frequents, a little angered by the discovery of another one of his frequents, with a little 25 cal. buried in his chest. I was never informed of the exact exchange of words in this incident but I'm sure they were colorful to say the least. At any rate my grandfather through some measure or another was able to use quick hands and relieve her of the handgun. Later on he gave it to my Mother. When I became older she gave it to me. My grandfather passed before I was ever born so all I ever had to know him by were small accounts, tid-bits, and a little 25 with a big story.
So what's the one gun you can't get rid of?
I know I don't have to go into what a 25 is good for, but other than that it has always been guaranteed to jam up every time you shoot it. Scariest thing about it to me is ejecting a live round. As the slide comes back the firing pin is what is used to push against the casing and fling it out with the extractor. It's not worth much and last I checked would bring under $100. But I could never get rid of it because it's a gun with a story that's worth more to me than the gun is.
This gun came from my Grandfather on my mom's side. See my grandfather was the kind that like to, well, drink from many cups. Occasionally that would spell trouble for him. One particular morning it brought a little more trouble than others as he was awakened by a sharp pressure in the middle of his chest. As he opened his eyes what he made out was one of his frequents, a little angered by the discovery of another one of his frequents, with a little 25 cal. buried in his chest. I was never informed of the exact exchange of words in this incident but I'm sure they were colorful to say the least. At any rate my grandfather through some measure or another was able to use quick hands and relieve her of the handgun. Later on he gave it to my Mother. When I became older she gave it to me. My grandfather passed before I was ever born so all I ever had to know him by were small accounts, tid-bits, and a little 25 with a big story.
So what's the one gun you can't get rid of?
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