I remember the weight of the trigger, the solid cracking echo of the round firing, and that pain in my back. My back?
The very first time I ever pulled a trigger I was nine years old. I did not grow up with guns in the house. I had never seen one in person nor had I ever even heard a gunshot, yet I was strangely drawn to the little devices. My Mother's boss at the time (Gary) was also sort of a family friend and he had a rather large spread, a rolling ten acres. He also had guns. One night when attending his home for dinner I expressed an interest in trying one out. I recall Gary appearing with two boxes of ammo. One contained large, pointy, bullets. The other was filled with something that did not look at all right. The fat little cylinders were flat on the ends, and made of plastic. Strange. I was offered the choice of one or the other. It was a choice I could not make since I had no clue what I was being given.
The choice was made for me. Grabbing the box of plastic shells and what I now know was a shotgun, Gary ushered me to the front porch. We sat on the steps and he placed the stock against my shoulder. He helped me hold the heavy piece of iron and directed me to pull the trigger on the count of three. He counted, I pulled. Nothing happened. I pulled again, harder, more pressure, harder, crack! A curl of smoke exited the muzzle and a plastic wadding bounced across the lawn. My shoulder was not sore, my ears were not ringing, but my back was hurting. There was a rhythmic thumping noise coming from the porch behind me. A glance over my shoulder revealed that the recoil had slammed me against a picnic bench which was now rocking back and forth from the force of my body. The pain quickly faded, but not the thrill of having pulled a trigger for the very first time. It would be nearly a decade before I would ever lay my hands on another firearm and several more years before I would own one of my own. Now, I pull a trigger as often as time and money will allow. This time; however, I make sure not to lean against any picnic benches.
Thanks for letting me share.
The very first time I ever pulled a trigger I was nine years old. I did not grow up with guns in the house. I had never seen one in person nor had I ever even heard a gunshot, yet I was strangely drawn to the little devices. My Mother's boss at the time (Gary) was also sort of a family friend and he had a rather large spread, a rolling ten acres. He also had guns. One night when attending his home for dinner I expressed an interest in trying one out. I recall Gary appearing with two boxes of ammo. One contained large, pointy, bullets. The other was filled with something that did not look at all right. The fat little cylinders were flat on the ends, and made of plastic. Strange. I was offered the choice of one or the other. It was a choice I could not make since I had no clue what I was being given.
The choice was made for me. Grabbing the box of plastic shells and what I now know was a shotgun, Gary ushered me to the front porch. We sat on the steps and he placed the stock against my shoulder. He helped me hold the heavy piece of iron and directed me to pull the trigger on the count of three. He counted, I pulled. Nothing happened. I pulled again, harder, more pressure, harder, crack! A curl of smoke exited the muzzle and a plastic wadding bounced across the lawn. My shoulder was not sore, my ears were not ringing, but my back was hurting. There was a rhythmic thumping noise coming from the porch behind me. A glance over my shoulder revealed that the recoil had slammed me against a picnic bench which was now rocking back and forth from the force of my body. The pain quickly faded, but not the thrill of having pulled a trigger for the very first time. It would be nearly a decade before I would ever lay my hands on another firearm and several more years before I would own one of my own. Now, I pull a trigger as often as time and money will allow. This time; however, I make sure not to lean against any picnic benches.
Thanks for letting me share.
and a hobby that I absolutely love.
