Who Was/Is The Most Inspirational Firearms Person In Your Life

[Whistler]

Yep very dangerous, glad I had someone there to teach me. Sorry to hear about the folks y'all knew.

 

[HKShooter65]

My dad.
No close second.

He taught me safety. The prime directive.
He taught me trigger and breath control on an old pump Winchester 22WRF.
He taught me too respect for the gift of nourishment game animals provide us.

All shooters should be so lucky.

He passed in 2002.

 

[robertc1024]

David, the range officer at Dietz. He taught me the basics of firearms and safety, and just an all around great guy when you get to know him.

Ha! Dave is great! I go out there every week or so - I'll have to tell him you said that.

 

[robertc1024]

My biggest influence was my uncle Obie. He was just a farmer in Thrall TX - but flew in a B-17 in WWII. As a kid, I lived to go out to his farm and mess around. My highlight was always shooting. My dad was indifferent but appreciated the workmanship on guns. Uncle Obie understood the fun of it for a kid.

 

[BMF500]

My wife's grandfather, who I grew up next door to.

 

[innominate]

My dad. Marine. Deputy sheriff. FFL.

 

[dsgrey]

My dad. Taught me how to shoot and bought all my BB, pellet, 22 and shotguns. Taught me how to reload shotgun shells with a homemade reloader. Took me on every hunting trip in Texas and Oklahoma. Heck, I was dove hunting with a full size 20 gauge with light loads at age 7.

Unfortunately, he later had some issues and skipped out before I was an adult and we haven't spoken in 35 years. But we had good times hunting, building things and working on cars before I was a teen.

 

[Roscoe1612]

My grand father was the hunter and sportsman. He gave me all of his outdoor magazines to read which cultivated an interest in hunting and fishing. Him and I and Nanny went on many a successful fishing trip and as I got older the talk turned to hunting and turning 16 and getting that hunting license. There was that lever action 30/30 I was going to use. But then when I was 15 there was a heart attack and I was a troubled teen and got tossed out of school and went in the service as soon as I turned 17 and then he got colon cancer and that was that. Now I am 76. I live on 80 rural wooded acres and I have already handed off rifles and pistols to my two grandsons.

 

[FireInTheWire]

My uncle & bother

 

[roadapple]

My Dad taught me gun handling and gun safety. He also taught me how to aim using open iron sights. He bought my first BB gun, a Red Rider, when I was 8. He bought me a pellet rifle when I was 10, or 11.

I was always around firearms while growing up. They have always been my favorite thing as far as I can remember. All of my friends, and their families, had owned firearms. Almost everyone I knew hunted and went shooting often.

As an adult, I would have to say Col. Jeff Cooper. I always read "Cooper's Corner" first, every time I got a new Guns & Ammo magazine. He reinforced my love of 1911's. I got to meet a fellow that used to work as an instructor for Gunsite when Col. Cooper was still running it. I regret I never personally met the Col., but Bill told me a lot of stories from his time at Gunsite.

I also like Craig Boddington, and his love of magnum rifles for hunting really big game.

I've had so many experiences in life that concerned firearms. I have heard a lot of stories, some of them true!
Since I am retired now, I have been thinking about writing a collection of stories called: Guns & Alcohol. If I can get permission to use enough of the stories, I just might go through with it.

 

[ZX9RCAM]

My grand father was the hunter and sportsman. He gave me all of his outdoor magazines to read which cultivated an interest in hunting and fishing. Him and I and Nanny went on many a successful fishing trip and as I got older the talk turned to hunting and turning 16 and getting that hunting license. There was that lever action 30/30 I was going to use. But then when I was 15 there was a heart attack and I was a troubled teen and got tossed out of school and went in the service as soon as I turned 17 and then he got colon cancer and that was that. Now I am 76. I live on 80 rural wooded acres and I have already handed off rifles and pistols to my two grandsons.

Welcome to the Forum!

 

[easy rider]

Can't remember his name for the life of me, but he was the owner of the Nellis Rod & Gun Club in Las Vegas. Taught me how to shoot skeet and reload in the 70's when I was 15.

 

[MLagunner]

Tatiana Whitlock

 

[Glenn B]

My dad.
BTW OP, this is a great topic.

Thanks, it's not often but every now and then I brew up a good one. Then again, its the folks who have posted that are making it a great one.

 

[Lipps]

My Boy Scout Master, who was also my Grandpa.
This was, of course, long before Scoutmasters were all Greek, the Rifle Shooting merit badge was earned shooting a firearm rather than an air gun and all the boys had a penis.

 

[jimirwin2023]

My grandfather a WW1 veteran who told me stories of hunting and gave me my first gun, a .410 sxs Stevens on my 8th birthday. Took me hunting many times.
His first lessons to me were:
1. don't ever point/aim at anything you don't intend to shoot
2. don't shoot at anything unless you intend to destroy it
He commanded an artillery company in France, so had seen this up close and personal.

 

[ZX9RCAM]

Tatiana Whitlock

Welcome to the Forum!

 

[Moonpie]

This question makes it a bit difficult for me to choose only one.
There were many.
Reading the exploits of the early explorers and mountain men made my want to be like them.
I learned trapping and woodcrafts and blackpowder firearms.
The adventures of the Old West made me want to be like Billy Dixon, Charlie Reynolds, and others.
Made me want to be like them and use Winchesters, Colt's, and Sharps.
Later on, friends fathers who were hunters and shooters allowing me to fire their, at the time to me, unfathomably, expensive firearms.

If I had to pick one it would have to be "The Shotgun Man".
I believe I've told the story before but I'll tell it again.

When I was a young teenager I fell in love with guns and shooting.
Dad was most certainly NOT a gun guy. Fact is he and Mother were kinda anti's.
We had a small collection of hand-me-down guns that came down thru the family but they were old junkers that didn't work.
Money was always tight and buying guns and ammo wasn't on Dads radar.
When I about 14 or so my Grandfather "loaned" me an old Iver Johnson champion single shot 12ga. It was what was known as a Long Tom. 34" barrel/full choke that kicked the beejabbers out of you. It was a 1930's era duck gun.
Grandpa turned it over to me with the caveat to keep it well maintained as he would want it back one day. So this behemoth was my dove gun.
Ammo was a constant issue. Dad didn't particularly like guns and seemed continually peeved about being pestered for ammo. In other words ammo re-supply was iffy at best. Non existent was more the norm.
Being under 16yrs old with no drivers license and stuck way out in BFE I couldn't even get to a store much less legally buy any.
I didn't get to shoot much. An afternoon dove hunt that expended 6 or 8 shotshells was expensive as hell for me.
.22LR ammo was the same. GOOD GOD BOY! I just bought you a 50rd box of .22 a month ago! What the heck are you doing with all that ammo?!?!?!?
Ammo came dear. VERY dear.

One late summer day I was over at a friends place when I heard some shooting going on down in the pasture. This friends Dad was an avid hunter and gun guy.
So curiousity got the better of me so off into the pasture I ventured toward the sound of guns.
It was a group of men that were friends of my friends dad. They were getting in a little clay pigeon shooting before dove season.
They had a thrower set up and were all shooting shotguns.
Getting closer, several pick-up trucks were backed up near the thrower with tailgates down.
The tailgates were covered with all manner of fantastic shotguns. I saw 870's, 1100's, A-5's, L.C.Smith's, Winchester Model 12's, Parker's, etc. I about wet my pants. I'd never see so many fine shotguns in one place in my life!
Standing there slobbering I must of been a sad sight.
I knew better than to touch.
One of the men noticed me standing there drooling and asked if I would like to look at the guns laying there. Oh yes please, as in heck yes! So he allowed me to pick them up and hold them, shoulder them, etc. It was wonderful. All good things come to an end so I laid the guns down and stepped away.
The Man asked me if i'd like to fire any of the guns? I wanted to so bad but I didn't have any ammo or money to pay for ammo so I politely declined. The Man repeated himself asking would you like to fire the gun? Oh yes sir I would. He replied get some shells and step over to the thrower. So I took ONE shell and chose the Remington 870 and stepped up.
Pull! BOOM! Smoke. Man! What a rush. I went to step back to return the gun to the tailgate and The Man asked WTH are you doing? Aren't you going to shoot more? I said, Mister thank you but I have no ammo or any money to pay for ammo. I don't want to shoot up your ammo.
He said, and I'll never forget, Shoot the gun, son, Have fun. while handing me FIVE boxes of shotshells! I stood there incredulous.
Are you serious Mister?!?!?! I'd never held so much shotgun ammo at one time in my life up to that point. He just said get over here to the thrower and lets go.
For the next thirty minutes or so I was in Nirvana. Firing away without regard. It was glorious. And I've never forgotten it. The Man seemed genuinely happy cocking and throwing clay pigeons as I blasted away. Laughing and giving me crap when I missed.

I never knew his name. Never saw him again.
That was over 45yrs ago and I still remember his face, his 870, and his gracious act of generousity to a broke ass kid he didn't even know.

That is a big reason I enjoy TGT peoples shooting my toys when we get together.
It is my small way of Paying It Forward.

 

[DavidApplegreen]

Rambo

 

[pronstar]

This question makes it a bit difficult for me to choose only one.
There were many.
Reading the exploits of the early explorers and mountain men made my want to be like them.
I learned trapping and woodcrafts and blackpowder firearms.
The adventures of the Old West made me want to be like Billy Dixon, Charlie Reynolds, and others.
Made me want to be like them and use Winchesters, Colt's, and Sharps.
Later on, friends fathers who were hunters and shooters allowing me to fire their, at the time to me, unfathomably, expensive firearms.

If I had to pick one it would have to be "The Shotgun Man".
I believe I've told the story before but I'll tell it again.

When I was a young teenager I fell in love with guns and shooting.
Dad was most certainly NOT a gun guy. Fact is he and Mother were kinda anti's.
We had a small collection of hand-me-down guns that came down thru the family but they were old junkers that didn't work.
Money was always tight and buying guns and ammo wasn't on Dads radar.
When I about 14 or so my Grandfather "loaned" me an old Iver Johnson champion single shot 12ga. It was what was known as a Long Tom. 34" barrel/full choke that kicked the beejabbers out of you. It was a 1930's era duck gun.
Grandpa turned it over to me with the caveat to keep it well maintained as he would want it back one day. So this behemoth was my dove gun.
Ammo was a constant issue. Dad didn't particularly like guns and seemed continually peeved about being pestered for ammo. In other words ammo re-supply was iffy at best. Non existent was more the norm.
Being under 16yrs old with no drivers license and stuck way out in BFE I couldn't even get to a store much less legally buy any.
I didn't get to shoot much. An afternoon dove hunt that expended 6 or 8 shotshells was expensive as hell for me.
.22LR ammo was the same. GOOD GOD BOY! I just bought you a 50rd box of .22 a month ago! What the heck are you doing with all that ammo?!?!?!?
Ammo came dear. VERY dear.

One late summer day I was over at a friends place when I heard some shooting going on down in the pasture. This friends Dad was an avid hunter and gun guy.
So curiousity got the better of me so off into the pasture I ventured toward the sound of guns.
It was a group of men that were friends of my friends dad. They were getting in a little clay pigeon shooting before dove season.
They had a thrower set up and were all shooting shotguns.
Getting closer, several pick-up trucks were backed up near the thrower with tailgates down.
The tailgates were covered with all manner of fantastic shotguns. I saw 870's, 1100's, A-5's, L.C.Smith's, Winchester Model 12's, Parker's, etc. I about wet my pants. I'd never see so many fine shotguns in one place in my life!
Standing there slobbering I must of been a sad sight.
I knew better than to touch.
One of the men noticed me standing there drooling and asked if I would like to look at the guns laying there. Oh yes please, as in heck yes! So he allowed me to pick them up and hold them, shoulder them, etc. It was wonderful. All good things come to an end so I laid the guns down and stepped away.
The Man asked me if i'd like to fire any of the guns? I wanted to so bad but I didn't have any ammo or money to pay for ammo so I politely declined. The Man repeated himself asking would you like to fire the gun? Oh yes sir I would. He replied get some shells and step over to the thrower. So I took ONE shell and chose the Remington 870 and stepped up.
Pull! BOOM! Smoke. Man! What a rush. I went to step back to return the gun to the tailgate and The Man asked WTH are you doing? Aren't you going to shoot more? I said, Mister thank you but I have no ammo or any money to pay for ammo. I don't want to shoot up your ammo.
He said, and I'll never forget, Shoot the gun, son, Have fun. while handing me FIVE boxes of shotshells! I stood there incredulous.
Are you serious Mister?!?!?! I'd never held so much shotgun ammo at one time in my life up to that point. He just said get over here to the thrower and lets go.
For the next thirty minutes or so I was in Nirvana. Firing away without regard. It was glorious. And I've never forgotten it. The Man seemed genuinely happy cocking and throwing clay pigeons as I blasted away. Laughing and giving me crap when I missed.

I never knew his name. Never saw him again.
That was over 45yrs ago and I still remember his face, his 870, and his gracious act of generousity to a broke ass kid he didn't even know.

That is a big reason I enjoy TGT peoples shooting my toys when we get together.
It is my small way of Paying It Forward.

Awesome story Moonpie


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