from: https://castboolits.gunloads.com/showth ... ost5112316A friend of mine was concerned when his daughter came of an age where the young men in her high school were becoming "interested". She was not permitted to "date" but was allowed to attend "mixers" which were well supervised. Her Mom took the situation well in hand and while getting her ready for the dance would not permit perfume, but instead applied a few drops of Hoppes on her hair band and scarf (it was a square dance).
Mom & Dad explained that if she met a young man whom she liked, who recognized the Hoppe's, that she could invite him to Sunday dinner. This indeed occurred, and the couple kept in touch. The young man enlisted after 9/11 and she wrote him during his deployment, sprinkling his letters with a couple drops of Hoppe's. Upon his safe return they were later married. Today their son is a cadet at Virginia Tech hoping to find a young lady who recognizes the smell of Hoppe's. As his Mom would say, "I don't want you bringing home a girl who smells like a brothel."
There is a camaraderie amongst us shooters surrounding the cleaning of guns. We get together after a day in the field or range and clean them together, and perhaps because a lot of talking isn't practical or desirable at the field or the range,* we swap stories during the cleaning session, some of which perhaps are true. So, as I'm about to clean one of my rifles, I'm sharing this as an appropriate part of the banter that would take place during a cleaning session.
*Saying this reminds me of a related story: My older son's father-in-law is a nice guy, but a person who has the unfortunate trait of never being able to chup. It was, indeed, a cause for gritting one's teeth whenever he headed one's way at one of my son's family gatherings.
We went to visit our son before his wife gave birth, so that my Wife could attend a baby gift shower with my son's female in-laws (which did not turn out pleasantly). My son proposed that he and I should go shooting while the gift shower was going on, to which I gladly agreed.
I found, unfortunately, after delivering my Wife to that murder of crows, that my son had invited his chatterbox father-in-law and two brothers-in-law. (Of this crowd, one brother-in-law is quite arrogant, but the other is a fairly decent chap who is a college professor. Both owned guns, but neither were shooters.) I had a sneaking suspicion that the father-in-law would come if he found out, as there would be no way he would miss such an opportunity to blather on interminably to such a group of captive victims, and my fears were fulfilled.
We got to the shooting site and both brothers-in-law started shooting their 9mms of some sort and the father-in-law began shooting his nice, new, expensive Kahr. My son had a stainless Ruger Single Six his father-in-law had given him. Yours truly took my Officer's Model Match 38. Unlike everyone else's new shiny piece, my Colt, made in 1920, looks used, but years ago it had belonged to a Native American guy who shot it in Bullseye matches and who had the lockwork tuned for this kind of competition. The trigger does not require a "pull," only a thought to touch the thing off. The enjoyment of popping caps with this old veteran is simply exquisite.
As the three in-laws sent lead flying in various directions, my Colt was repeatedly dinging the swinging metal target I'd brought -- it was only my eyesight's fault that the old 38 wasn't delivering the performance it was able to deliver. None the less, there was a world of difference between their shooting and mine. They were all shooting in modern two-handed combat style, while I am a Bullseye shooter. Once, I saw the arrogant brother-in-law attempting the Bullseye style, and the father-in-law advised him he'd better stick to what he had been doing. I don't think that I grinned, although I'm sure that my son heard thought patterns of great hilarity coming from my direction.
When it came to shooting, the old Colt was, as we'd say, "beating them like a piñata" (sort of like saying, "beating them like a drum"), and the outing wasn't really turning out so badly.
But the best part was that, since everyone was wearing hearing protection, the chatty father-in-law wasn't able to ply anyone with his prattle. It must have been traumatic for him in the extreme! Shooting is such a wonderful sport!