Solomonson
Member
When I was a senior in high school a good friend told me that he and his father were going to Zimbabwe after graduation for a three week safari. That struck me as odd because even though we were good friends, we had never hunted together.
During deer season I took him out and he got his first buck -- after spending some time at the range getting his brand new Winchester properly sighted. It wasn't a big trophy buck -- just a nice "barbecue buck." A great introduction to hunting (and dressing) for someone who had never been in the field before.
As we got closer to graduation, his father asked my father if I could take his spot on the safari? He had some family issues back east and couldn't make the safari. Looking back I don't think he wanted to go. Anyway, to my disbelief my parents said "yes." A gift of a safari was huge in itself, but that's not what stunned me.
I had six weeks to get my shots and gather my gear. I had pretty much everything I needed -- proper broken-in footwear, my trusty Remington M700 in 30-06 and my 870 Remington 12 gauge. What I didn't have was a big bore rifle, nor did I know of anyone who could loan me one. Not a huge demand for such firearms in coastal California.
My friend and his father had bought identical brand new Winchester Model 70s in 270 and Win Model 1200 shotguns. My friend also had a new-in-the-box Winchester M70 in .458 WM (someone sure saw them coming!) His father had some sort exceedingly expensive European double (I never saw it) that he wasn't about to lend me. I looked diligently for a new or used big bore in my price range with no luck. Finally I figured I would rent/borrow one from the outfitter.
The following week I was having my teeth cleaned and my dentist asked about the safari? My friend's dad was a dentist and apparently news traveled fast within their little network. I said I was ready to go except for a big bore rifle. He said his first wife (he was on his third) had bought him a hunting rifle back when she tried to drag him to the African Continent. He never went with her, but had been several times since -- as a photographer. He said he would dig out the rifle and let me know.
Later that week I arrived home and on the front porch was a gun case with the name "Weatherby" embossed on it. I opened it right on the porch and inside lay a beautiful Weatherby Mark V chambered in the incredible 460 Wby. Mag. My feeling of elation turned to sadness as I realized there was no way I could afford the mighty Weatherby.
The next day I visited my dentist to return the rifle. He made it clear the Weatherby was a gift -- his wife had dug it out of their garage and wanted it "out of the house!" so it was mine at no cost. I was a bit embarrassed. but I thanked him profusely and accepted the gift. Hearing of the gift that night, my dad took me to and upscale liquor store and picked out a large bottle of Crown Royal which I paid for. The next day my mom wrapped the bottle and had me sign the card she had picked up for me. I presented both to my dentist the following day.
The following week I found just how expensive it was to feed a firearm chambered in 460 Wby. Mag., but that's another story. That Weatherby is still the vanguard piece of my collection. It performed flawlessly in Zimbabwe (and in the hills of California harvesting deer and swine to boot!)
During deer season I took him out and he got his first buck -- after spending some time at the range getting his brand new Winchester properly sighted. It wasn't a big trophy buck -- just a nice "barbecue buck." A great introduction to hunting (and dressing) for someone who had never been in the field before.
As we got closer to graduation, his father asked my father if I could take his spot on the safari? He had some family issues back east and couldn't make the safari. Looking back I don't think he wanted to go. Anyway, to my disbelief my parents said "yes." A gift of a safari was huge in itself, but that's not what stunned me.
I had six weeks to get my shots and gather my gear. I had pretty much everything I needed -- proper broken-in footwear, my trusty Remington M700 in 30-06 and my 870 Remington 12 gauge. What I didn't have was a big bore rifle, nor did I know of anyone who could loan me one. Not a huge demand for such firearms in coastal California.
My friend and his father had bought identical brand new Winchester Model 70s in 270 and Win Model 1200 shotguns. My friend also had a new-in-the-box Winchester M70 in .458 WM (someone sure saw them coming!) His father had some sort exceedingly expensive European double (I never saw it) that he wasn't about to lend me. I looked diligently for a new or used big bore in my price range with no luck. Finally I figured I would rent/borrow one from the outfitter.
The following week I was having my teeth cleaned and my dentist asked about the safari? My friend's dad was a dentist and apparently news traveled fast within their little network. I said I was ready to go except for a big bore rifle. He said his first wife (he was on his third) had bought him a hunting rifle back when she tried to drag him to the African Continent. He never went with her, but had been several times since -- as a photographer. He said he would dig out the rifle and let me know.
Later that week I arrived home and on the front porch was a gun case with the name "Weatherby" embossed on it. I opened it right on the porch and inside lay a beautiful Weatherby Mark V chambered in the incredible 460 Wby. Mag. My feeling of elation turned to sadness as I realized there was no way I could afford the mighty Weatherby.
The next day I visited my dentist to return the rifle. He made it clear the Weatherby was a gift -- his wife had dug it out of their garage and wanted it "out of the house!" so it was mine at no cost. I was a bit embarrassed. but I thanked him profusely and accepted the gift. Hearing of the gift that night, my dad took me to and upscale liquor store and picked out a large bottle of Crown Royal which I paid for. The next day my mom wrapped the bottle and had me sign the card she had picked up for me. I presented both to my dentist the following day.
The following week I found just how expensive it was to feed a firearm chambered in 460 Wby. Mag., but that's another story. That Weatherby is still the vanguard piece of my collection. It performed flawlessly in Zimbabwe (and in the hills of California harvesting deer and swine to boot!)
