Not just the guns, but all the stuff that goes with them
It’s Italy Day here on this back porch of mine:
…and here are some fine Italian things.
First up, a matched pair of Rizzini shotguns:
Next up, a 1955 Fiat 8V, styled by Zagato:
…and a 1967 Fiat 2400 Dino Spider:
Speaking of fine Italian models of yore, it’s about time we looked at Sophia again:
…and her younger compatriot, Monica Bellucci:
And speaking of yummy:
Where could one buy such things? Well, in Milan, for instance:
That’s all Italian style, folks, and it’s pretty much unbeatable.
Okay, once again I am compelled to stand athwart the tide of gun trends, and cry “STOP!”.
The object of my discontent is this trend towards “assault pistols” such as the ones which appear here and feature guns like these:
Let me make my feelings on this type of gun quite clear: if they were full-auto (select fire), i.e. sub-machine pistols, I would take one in a heartbeat. But as pistols, they’re shit.
Bulkier and heavier (ergo unconcealable) than a regular Glock, 1911 or S&W semi-auto, firing the same Europellet poodle-shooter ammo as most pistols nowadays seem to be doing [sigh], and beloved of SWAT-fanbois everywhere, they fail as pistols and are inferior to pistol-caliber carbines in terms of accuracy and punch.
Aesthetically, they look like shit — cobbled together by some Bubba in his workshop somewhere — and they’re overpriced. Such is fashion, and it’s as true for guns as it is about, say, shoes:
(The one on the left looks like the shoe equivalent of an assault pistol, and the pink disasters are actually from Balenciaga.)
I think the problem started when CZ converted their wonderful Skorpion subbie into semi-auto:
…and all of a sudden, AR and AK variants of the same concept started sprouting like poisonous mushrooms.
Your taste, your choice (and dollars), of course, and if you think that owning one of these makes you look like some kind of “operator”, be my guest.
On the other hand, if you want one of these because it causes anti-gunners, the media and gun-fearing wussies [some overlap] to reach for their smelling salts, go right ahead.
Just don’t expect me to join you.
From Reader Greg S, a question via email:
Might I ask you to share your thoughts on “English” stock vs. American stocks for shotguns? As I imagine many do here in the USA, my shotgunning experience started with the typical “pistol grip” style of butt stock. There’s also a similar style called “Prince of Wales” that I’ve seen.
A few years in, I was fortunate to try the straight English butt stock and became an instant convert. Strictly for myself, I’ve found that recoil management is better and the shotgun seems to point more naturally.
Those would also be my reasons for choosing the straight stock, but I also just love the way they look. Compare the pistol-gripped Beretta Silver Pigeon and the “English” Browning Superlite (both lovely shotguns) below:
Now compare even the Browning to an English stock and splinter forearm on a side-by-side H&H Deluxe:
More graceful, lighter (by several ounces), quicker to shoulder and point… pretty much perfection. (We can argue about twin vs. single triggers at another time.)
Your opinion may vary, but neither Reader Greg nor I care.
I often get promo emails from Classic Firearms, and occasionally a couple items will jump off the page, so to speak. Yesterday’s was one such example:
That’s not the Lee Harvey Oswald version, but the earlier 6.5mm one. I’ve fired several of these before, and although the bolt is a little clunky, there’s nothing at all wrong with it as a fun gun, or even, dare I say, a truck/trunk gun. And ammo, thanks to Prvi Partizan (may they stay in business forever), is actually not too spendy, as seen at Graf & Sons:
The only problem with the Carcano rifles (of any chambering) is that their condition is often questionable — and I’m not talking about beat-up stocks, either. Sometimes, the bores are almost smooth or else pitted like the surface of the Moon. So caveat emptor.
The above is certainly not true of the next offering, the fantastic Schmidt-Rubin 1911 rifles and carbines:
As I’ve said many times before, this rifle is one of the unsung wonders of the modern age: made to Swiss-watch tolerances, just about every one I’ve ever fired has felt like ball-bearings on velvet, with accuracy to match. I prefer the longer 1911 over the K11 carbine simply because it’s better-made, but either way, you’re going to get a fine rifle. There’s hardly a day goes by without me looking back with regret at having had to sell my 1911 rifle because Poverty.
Now, about the 7.5x55mm ammo:
I am delighted to see that RUAG has restarted manufacture of their superlative mil-spec ammo, and Graf assures us that they’ll have it back in stock within a month or so. And at 62 cents per pull… yikes.
And just for the hell of it, here’s the last item:
I don’t know anything about this little example of Central European gunny goodness, but given the exorbitant cost of the HK / SIG offerings, this might be worth a look.
Man, I love this Gun Thing.
From Reader Preussenotto in an email:
“I don’t know if you’ve asked this before or its been some time, but I’d be curious to know.
“What was the first “real” gun you ever bought with your own money (long-arm or handgun)? Not a .22 (because those should be household appliances, like a toaster) and not one you inherited from Grandpa or Dad, but one you plunked down your own hard-earned for?”
Question from Reader JockC, via email:
“Did you own any other rifles back in South Africa, or was the Israeli Mauser the only one?”
Getting one gun in those days was relatively easy. As I recall, the license application for the Llama pistol took about a month to be granted, and the Mauser only a matter of weeks. “Self-protection” for the handgun required a background check, but “hunting” and a bolt-action rifle was hardly even scrutinized, as far as I can tell.
Getting your second gun always took longer, as the “Why do you need another gun?” had to be justified, and “Because” wasn’t acceptable. Once again, the hunting thing was much easier, especially if one was applying for a larger- or smaller-caliber chambering. A second handgun, unless for a specific sporting purpose, like a target pistol? Oy. It could take as long as a year for the license to be granted. So I only ever owned one handgun at a time, as did many of us.
Officially, that is.
The only other centerfire rifle I owned back in the old Racist Republic was an Oviedo Spanish Mauser in 7x57mm, similar to the one below except that I had the bolt altered so I could use a scope with the thing.
I have spoken many times before of my affection for the old, gently-recoiling cartridge, seen here alongside the other popular ones in use at the time:
The long bullet of the 7×57 allowed for astounding penetration, which often made a “quartering” shot as deadly as a side-on shot.
The Orviedo Mauser was the Model 1893 (similar to the “Boer” Mauser of later fame), and many was the approving nod I got from Oom (uncle) Sarel and his farmer friends whenever I uncased it.
This was the gun I used for almost all my hunting (a.k.a. poaching), and it was never registered to me under S.A. law because reasons. (I did occasionally use borrowed rifles, but the Spanish Mauser was the main one.) I got it from the estate of an acquaintance who’d been killed in a car accident, and whose father just wanted to get rid of it.
Using the unregistered gun instead of the Izzy (which was registered to me), I had no compunction about tossing it into a ditch should the game rangers ever appear… but fortunately that never happened. Just before I emigrated, I gave it to the farmer on whose farm I did all my hunting out in the Northern Cape.
As to the area where we hunted: yikes. I have no pictures of where I hunted, nor any trophy pictures, because under the conditions I hunted, those could be called “evidence” and used against me. But I found some pictures of the terrain up in the northern Cape Province (as it was back then), and they should give you a glimpse of conditions along the fringes of the Kalahari Desert:
Dry as hell, hot as hell, no place for White men (as the saying goes) and only mad dogs and Englishmen etc. etc.
Despite the harsh conditions, game was relatively plentiful, although we usually only hunted for culling purposes — such as when a springbok herd started grazing on pastures meant for sheep or cattle, and had to be made to fear the area. I myself grazed on springbok biltong for about six months after that occasion. Then there were the lions, who just followed the game onto the farm, and had to be dealt with, in the words of the farmer, “so they don’t develop a taste for beef, sheep and humans.”
I would get an evening call from Oom Sarel the farmer: “Neef (nephew) Kim, do you feel like a bit of shooting this weekend?” and if I was free, I’d load up the car and set off before midnight Friday for the six-hour drive out to Kuruman, the nearest town.
I enjoyed it immensely, as much as for the companionship of those weekend hunts as for the actual hunting. What I learned from those outings was that I wasn’t as good a shot as the farmers — hell, the neighbor’s 17-year-old was death on wheels, and when he shot, he worked his rifle’s bolt so fast it sounded more like semi-auto fire. (It was a Sauer .270 Win, I think, but I do remember that his one-shot kill ratio was well over 75%. Astounding.)
Anyway, that’s the story of my hunting days. There were a couple others, in different areas, but those weren’t as illicit, nor as enjoyable, as the ones out on Oom Sarel’s farm.
Side note: In South Africa, younger people address their elders as “oom” (uncle) or “tannie” (auntie) out of respect, even when not related. In return, the older folks will call the younger ones “neef” (nephew), “seun” (son) or “dogter” (daughter) and “niggie” (niece). It is a very affectionate and respectful custom, and I have to admit that I miss it.
The Afrikaans “g” is pronounced the same as the Scottish “ch” as in “loch”.