So last week my desultory biweekly check of the sadly dusty Walmart ammo counter turned up a few boxes of .30-30. Remembering that I had a Winchester 1894 that I’d never shot, I grabbed two boxes (Don’t bogart the ammo, gunbros) and took Great-Grandpa’s gun down to PHA with me that Friday along with my usual battery of Glocks, ARs and .22s. After using up a few boxes of my 9mm, 5.56 steel case and .22LR stash, I was just about out of time, but still ran a fresh target out to the 30 yard limit of the pistol bay I was using, and this happened:

Okay, so I’m hitting high, but I was using a dead center hold and I presume the sights are regulated to make the most out of the .30 WCF’s trajectory. While a decent group for standing, what this picture doesn’t capture is the way in which the ’94 produces this group. It practically levitates up to your shoulder. Your cheek falls naturally to the stock. The sights are already on target. The trigger is short and light. The lever smoothly pulls the spent shell out and over your shoulder without drama, and chambers the new round without resistance. Recoil is a pleasant thump, just enough to let you know something happened.
It’s obvious from examining the 1894 that its designer was a once in a generation genius (I could watch the little locking block go up and down all day), but shooting it makes it clear that Browning (pbuh) was a genius who shot and understood shooting, and how to make firearms friendlier to use. Like Col Cooper kept trying to tell us about, it’s not the numbers on the spec sheet that matter, but how the features add up and work together, and that’s not something you can understand any other way than via direct experience.
Does this mean that I could give up modern rifles for the 1894? Well, no. In particular, the 1894′s stock sights are tiny and dim, and only usable in direct sunlight on light targets. The low sight height over the barrel means that only a few rounds in quick succession produces enough heat mirage to distort the view of the target. More than a box of ammunition in rapid fire will heat the barrel up to where a cookoff is possible. So my ARs are in no danger of being displaced for general emergencies, but if I had to carry a carbine all day in poor terrain and had to prepare for shooting fewer things fewer times, I’d have to stop and think about it. 6 and a quarter pounds is a lot less than 10.
So adding to my seemingly never-decreasing list of Gun Projects I have on the boil, I put in a back order for some .30-30 reloading dies, and started hunting around for some cast lead bullets and suitable powder to reload my newly empty cases. The irony of finishing up a pair of cutting-edge defensive carbines and then pivoting to work on a hundred year old lever-action gun is not lost on me.
Somewhat related, after our last car was t-boned into scrap by an inattentive driver, we replaced it with a 2004 Chevrolet Impala, my dreams of a BMW or Subaru wagon with a stick-shift dashed by fiscal limitations. The Impaler pretty much maxed out the “big” vs “cheap” chart and though I initially resented selecting a “Grandpa” car, it grew on me. Fast. It’s huge on the inside. We managed to pick one with the 3800 V6 instead of the asthmatic 3.4L, so it’s fast enough. Parts are cheap and available in a way that only fleet-service ubiquity can bring, and after we got the infamous intake gasket problem licked, it’s been reliable. It’s a marvelously comfy ride that devours thousand mile days, with both kids and all our junk in the trunk without discomfort. It’s one of the best cars I’ve ever owned, yet it seems like just yesterday I was making fun of Geezers for buying them.
On a further tangent, late last year I was nursing the last of my Gillette Super Xtreme Umpteen Blade razor cartridges along while I googled around for a cheaper alternative. After unexpectedly reading this entire 32 page long thread at pistol-forum.com on the intricacies of straight and double-edged safety razor shaving, my initial reaction was “Y’all are a bunch of faggots”. But being out of options and curious, I won an Ebay bid on a 1975 Gillette 2-tone handle and bought a bunch of blades and puck soaps from these guys. And wouldn’t you know, once I had gotten over the initial learning curve (do NOT choose the Japanese Feather blades as your first blades), I was getting the best shaves I’d ever had for less than what I would have paid for my next pack of gimmick blades, while shaving like my Grandfathers had.
So what other secrets are our elders hiding from us? What truths have they understood all these years that we’ve rejected out of hand? Should I go ahead and get sized for my Members Only jacket?
…what will I think of my Glocks when my 1911 finally comes home?
D: