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Seahawk's story resonates with me. With guns, there is zero tolerance. His response was highly appropriate.
No, I didn't start riding bikes late. I was around guns early. No, I wasn't shooting anything when I was three but I remember dad and grampa coming home with three, count 'em THREE elk lashed across an old Willy's Jeep. I have the picture. Those elk were of course field dressed, but then they were hung in dad's garage and processed there. By the time I was five, no squirrel or bird was safe from my BB gun. I think I got my .22 at around nine. I think I was 14 when I started hunting deer and elk. There are plenty of hunters I will not hunt with. When I hunt, I almost always pick a spot and sit. Partly because it's quieter and game travels faster than I do anyway, and partly because it's easier to get shot when you are walking. I do NOT trust most gun-handlers.
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Man of Carbon Fiber (stronger than steel)
Mocha 1978 911SC. "Coco"
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