Older brother had an old 22 rifle. 13 years later when I came along it was in Dads pile of junk with the stock duct taped up. When I was 6 I got a wood carving knife set when we were on vacation. I basically whittled a new stock from a big ol chunk of cherry I got at the local lumber yard (back when neighborhoods had lumberyards and hardware stores, etc. instead of box stores.) Even re-blued the barrel and cleaned all up so it looked brand new.
Learned to shot real good. Neighbor's Dad was a food broker for Heinz. He would drop us off way out in the country where there wasn't anyone for miles and leave us all day on a deserted bridge with a few cases of empty catsup bottles. We had a blast. We would toss bottles in the creak and try to shoot the caps off, then shoot just below the water line to sink em. Sometimes they got way far down stream before we hit em.
Even got to where we could throw coins up in the air and hit em. The tough part was finding them after. One of us would hit the coin and the other would try to keep eyes on it where it went.
Sad thing was when my brother's kids got old enough to be seriousliy interested in guns, my brother claimed it was his gun and took it. Guarantee if I hadn't restocked and refinished it he wouldn't have been interested. His kids put it back into horrible condition.