Guffaw in Az meditates on the circumstance of one’s gear getting that experienced and lived-in look, when you can’t afford to replace it with nicer gear.
You can lament it or you can celebrate it. No law says you can’t do both, simultaneously or on alternating days. Not long ago a neighbor showed me his spiffy new S&W AR, and I felt a pang. I have a perfectly good carbine, which I carry often and for serious purposes…
…and it’s scratched and bashed and dented and dinged and not really especially accurate, but it never ever fails to go bang for me. I’m not unhappy with it. But that AR was … so … pretty. I wanted one.
Another neighbor bought himself a NIB Ruger Vaquero that’s just the prettiest thing. I went to the range with him to inaugurate it, and for the first time found myself a bit defensive about my 20-year-old beater Taurus which I carry every day. I’ve made four kills with it, counting snakes. It never lets me down…well okay, sometimes it lets me down but so far only in practice. Then I know it’s time for another repair. It’s scratched and discolored and the grip is wrapped in innertube rubber and it’s not pretty. 
But it works. And I love it because I carry it every day for serious purposes and I know right where the bullet will go and if it gets another scratch that’s perfectly okay.
I wanted that pretty S&W, and I wanted that pretty Ruger. But if I had them I wouldn’t carry them, even though they’re better guns.
Don’t even get me started on Landlady’s Jeep. (Can’t find a quick pic.) I’m already late for shit-shoveling, gotta go, so I won’t take the time to catalog its failings. But it (almost) always starts and it doesn’t care about hills or rocks or deep sand, all of which I need to traverse to get where I’m going. It’s ugly. Let’s not mince words: It’s very ugly. But it’s beautiful to me.
That lived-in look just means it’s actually lived in: It’s not a closet or driveway queen. And that’s a point of pride, if you choose to see it as such. I own a rifle that’s really pretty. It’s really pretty because it spends every day in a case; I rarely use it. I like to take it out and look at it, or run a few rounds through it at the range. But I don’t really love it. You can tell the gear that I love: I’ve got it with me. And it’s beat to hell, because I’ve got it with me.
Makes me think of The Velveteen Rabbit. A pretty gun is nice; a properly-worn one is nicer.
I look a bit lived in myself. Why should my tools look better than I do? 😉
There you go, hermit! 🙂 I’m a bit rough around the edges myself. I wear the 9mm in a beat up holster that looks like hell, but still does the job. The nice new holster I wear when I go to town looks great, but I have to say I love the old one. It just feels right. 🙂 The gun is scratched, has wear spots, and needs a good cleaning presently, but both holsters hide that stuff very well.
I unapologetically prefer worn-looking gear.
http://www.forgottenweapons.com/my-new-old-carry-pistol/
Thanks for the mention!
“AND ITS BEAT TO HELL, BECAUSE I HAVE IT WITH ME”
That just sums it all up.
I raced cars at one time and one day a guy rolled up with a real Cobra, aluminum fenders and everything. It was not the prettiest one I had ever seen but was still in nice shape. I asked him if he was worried about damaging it and he told me whatever broke he could fix it.
I shook his hand.
Imagine what it would be like to actually race one of those cars.
He knows.
The guns I use are a bit beat. All honest wear and tear, no rust, all functional. They are even models that “nobody” is supposed to carry or use. I like old oddball guns, kind of like your friend Ian. They have a lot of character, like my truck does. It is beat and worn and has a literally lived in look and occaisonally balky, like an old friend should be, but never lets me down.