Yesterday evening Ian and I were sitting in his mancave sipping excellent rye and discussing a possible future project. And I’m not going to say anything about that because it’s his, but in the course of the increasingly drunken conversation the project came to involve (as Ian projects are wont to do) a particular rifle. And he ended up rummaging through his pile’o’strange guns…
“And here’s another typical evening in [redacted.] First I get you likkered up, then I hand you a gun.”
“That’s all right. I brought my own.”
…and I went home with this odd little gun slung over my shoulder, having promised to run some test rounds through it.
Now it’s pushing six in the morning and I’m getting ready to do my thing, only this particular morning I need some 7.62 Commie ammo to do that. I keep my working ammo supply on a problematic shelf I’ve been meaning to fix at some point…
It’s plenty strong for its purpose but rather a lot too narrow. Plus that ceiling is eight feet high so it’s a pretty good reach.
The can with the AK ammo is right next to the can with my M1A mags, only about half of which are full. And all would have been well if I hadn’t absently left the full ones toward the front of the can. So I pull down the can I want, the can I don’t want overbalances and falls, and I try to get out of the way but don’t quite make it in my pre-coffied state. The can’o’mags gives me a good crack on my forearm.
It broke the skin a bit and gave me a bruise I’ll remember today. Maybe I’ll go see if D’s got three feet of straight 2X12 he could part with.
Anyway, I dance around the cabin for a few minutes, saying words my mother would never approve and waving my arm around like a stroked-out shaman, but I’m not really hurt and know it so sooner or later I get back to business.
This little rifle has a Carcano action and uses en bloc clips with which I’m almost completely unfamiliar. I load five rounds into a clip, open the action, push the clip almost all the way down, and let go. It turns out you’re not supposed to do that. The clip comes flying out the top of the action and fetches me a good one right in the teeth.
So it’s not even six in the morning, gun stuff is beating the hell out of me in my own home, and I laugh and mutter, “The gun grabbers are right! Guns are too dangerous for the likes of me.” Then I put the whole misbegotten project aside and go in search of some coffee.
Sorry Joel, but that’s actually hilarious! Sounds like my kind of morning too!
You tried to function early morning, hung over, caffeine-deficient and literally over your head. Of course it’s the gun’s fault.
Snort! Made me spit coffee. 😀
A Carcano in 762×39? Hmmmm……I always had a fancy for the little Cavalry Carbines but never bought one(shoulda when B&E had a 55 gallon drum full of them with clips for $65 decades back) because the components are or at least were, spotty and expensive at best. Kinda like the dammed Steyr M95 I have had for 20 years and have never fired…….. One of these days.
By the way, Joel, since we have been so tight for so many decades, as soon as I return stateside from the latest Conrad-esqe venture into going native I will come and unburden you of these hazards. It’s a hardship for me, but my pleasure, Pal. For the children.
Interesting coincidence; the 7.35 Carcano case head is nearly identical to 7.62×39.
Maybe that is where that Italian expression comes from when they flick their front teeth toward the person intended for . . . Sorry for the owwie, but its nothing new – those metal ammo boxes have dinged me up several times as well. I’ve lost two pinkie nails due to kicking them when walking by, it DOES expand your vocabulary and may even put me in a high roller suite in Hell due to the profanity . . . :^)
I may have seen a Carcano like that, they were priced very inexpensively but they were short and compact, looking like a good brush country ranch rifle.
Best place for heavy stuff is on or near the floor. Put your extra Rice Crispie boxes up there instead.
I think you change the name of Ian’s place to the “Grotto”. You could then be telling us of having a bit of gunning and a grog at the grotto. Nothing like “airs”!{;>)
Ha! I’m with LJH – I never do anything “dangerous” first thing in the morning without several applications of coffee and/or tea. To give more meaning to this – I gave myself a very minor concussion last week Monday when the iron “safely” stacked above my bed came crashing down on top of me….
It’s nice to read someone who knows there’s a difference between clips and magazines – and gets it right.