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My father grew up in the depression. He, like my grandfather, loved to hunt and fish. Dad's favorite hunting rifle was a very old, but very smooth Winchester 30-06.
One day grandfather was browsing in a hunting store and saw it. He didn't have the money to buy it, but he returned to the shop often to look at it and hold it. One late autumn day he returned to the shop and it was gone. The salesman told him some lady had bought it.
Grandpa was peeved. He was really irritated! Some woman had the nerve to go in there and buy HIS gun! I guess you know the rest of the story, it was given to him for his birthday by his wife.
Dad eventually came to own the gun and used it to kill many, many deer. His friends called him, "One Shot". Each of his sons borrowed it on occasion to shoot deer of their own.
When dad passed away a few years ago, we, (my brothers and I) decided that no one of us should have it and so it spends a hunting season in a different home every year.
I've killed deer with other rifles, but that one is special.
You know how in those Fantasy movies, the sword of power magically fights the battle for the wielder? Grandpa's 30-06 just seems to know where to place the bullet. Maybe it was the Model 70 that should have been called, "One Shot".
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