No pictures of new revolvers for you.
For the very simple reason that, in the words of my father the range safety officer, "that gun is fucked."
Was bought 'round ten days ago at the Puyallup gun show (the Washington Arms Collectors alternate between Puyallup and Monroe), as I'd mentioned to my father that I'd been having fun with a borrowed .38 the last few times I'd been going out shooting. My father being a handgun-shiny type (and me being fairly exclusive to rifles previously), in his wanderings of the show he kept an eye out for guns for me.
The gun we settled on (getting someone else to watch our table, as he'd brought several guns to sell off, no longer being deeply enthusiastic about S.A.S.S./Cowboy Action Shooting despite still having and using a reloading machine) was a Miroku .38 special, a double action revolver that fit my hand reasonably well, unlike the revolvers we were selling off. My brother did a shoot-up-like-a-weed dance a few years ago--a gun sized for his hand really doesn't fit mine.
Dad had forgotten to bring bullets for me, so we agreed that I'd bring the gun the next time I came to visit and test it out, along with the Winchester .22 he'd also snagged because it was too damn shiny to pass up.
All of which is prologue for Sunday afternoon, wherein I had to pull the target in closer than I do with my own rifle to get accurate groupings with the new one (scope versus iron sights and a need for new glasses. Stupid eyes), but couldn't get the revolver to get anything like a grouping. Also had two misfires.
So Dad tried.
Including with a bench rest.
The cylinder doesn't rotate accurately. My misfires were because the gun failed to rotate enough to have the firing pin strike the primer, then rotated past live rounds, leaving me two live rounds in a five-loaded gun.
Dad will be trying to contact the seller to get his money back, so he has the gun, with a somewhat stunned apology for the behaviour of something he bought for me. As there wasn't exactly a test-firing range at the gun show, he couldn't have known, and I told him as much. *wry smile* He retaliated with having me try out his semi-automatic .22, so I wouldn't come away from the experience thinking I couldn't shoot pistols. After much cussing . . . .
As long as I think of pistols as Very Awkward Rifles, I'm not a terrible shot. =P
Was bought 'round ten days ago at the Puyallup gun show (the Washington Arms Collectors alternate between Puyallup and Monroe), as I'd mentioned to my father that I'd been having fun with a borrowed .38 the last few times I'd been going out shooting. My father being a handgun-shiny type (and me being fairly exclusive to rifles previously), in his wanderings of the show he kept an eye out for guns for me.
The gun we settled on (getting someone else to watch our table, as he'd brought several guns to sell off, no longer being deeply enthusiastic about S.A.S.S./Cowboy Action Shooting despite still having and using a reloading machine) was a Miroku .38 special, a double action revolver that fit my hand reasonably well, unlike the revolvers we were selling off. My brother did a shoot-up-like-a-weed dance a few years ago--a gun sized for his hand really doesn't fit mine.
Dad had forgotten to bring bullets for me, so we agreed that I'd bring the gun the next time I came to visit and test it out, along with the Winchester .22 he'd also snagged because it was too damn shiny to pass up.
All of which is prologue for Sunday afternoon, wherein I had to pull the target in closer than I do with my own rifle to get accurate groupings with the new one (scope versus iron sights and a need for new glasses. Stupid eyes), but couldn't get the revolver to get anything like a grouping. Also had two misfires.
So Dad tried.
Including with a bench rest.
The cylinder doesn't rotate accurately. My misfires were because the gun failed to rotate enough to have the firing pin strike the primer, then rotated past live rounds, leaving me two live rounds in a five-loaded gun.
Dad will be trying to contact the seller to get his money back, so he has the gun, with a somewhat stunned apology for the behaviour of something he bought for me. As there wasn't exactly a test-firing range at the gun show, he couldn't have known, and I told him as much. *wry smile* He retaliated with having me try out his semi-automatic .22, so I wouldn't come away from the experience thinking I couldn't shoot pistols. After much cussing . . . .
As long as I think of pistols as Very Awkward Rifles, I'm not a terrible shot. =P