Man what a day. Somewhere around age 6-7 my paw paw pulled out an old Remington 600 in 6mm, and told me "it'll be yours one day boy" the gun had wear and tear marks from years of heavy use. On the bottom of the grip were 33 notches, one for every buck he had killed with it. On the side, a skoal bandit "patch". I have been obsessed with that gun for 32-33 years. At about 20 years old, he was packing for a trip west Texas and he packed a different gun. I asked him where the 6 was and he said it was slinging bullets and he couldn't get it figured out. I told him I'd bring it home and see if I could figure it out, but an uncle had it to see what he could do. A few years later it came back up and he could no longer find the gun, it was gone. This would have been probably 16 or so years ago. To my knowledge the gun has never been found. Paw paw died in December of '21, my hero passed and selfishly the only thing I could think about was that old 6. It was my connection to him. I've never wanted anything more in my life, it was something I thought about literally weekly for the last 33 years. Today my mom sends me this. "I've got something for you"
Sent from my SM-F721U using Tapatalk
Sent from my SM-F721U using Tapatalk
Comment