To Vaquero

To Vaquero or not Vaquero, the Pietta is the question. Alas poor USFA, I wanted badly but knew not well. Beretta, Beretta, by any other name Uberti would Stampede. But finally the Colt, my kingdom for a horse – or pony.
So as you might imaging I’m trying to justify some new gun, and the lesser shadows keep enveloping me. The urge has been to go SAA and play Cowboy. Up here in the fresh hills and fragrant trees that is still a reality, while down amongst the concrete and grime, the beard-savage hipsters and tattooed neo-tribalists disbelieve in such games and play.
I’ve also come to realize that our wonderful 200-yard lay-down playground was a beautiful oasis. We could shoot ten offhand, then go to rapid seated and prone, and then slowly squeeze the wood and metal for twenty more, and do it twice a month – or more… That’s a rarity, as elusive as happiness.

About NotClauswitz

The semi-sprawling adventures of a culturally hegemonic former flat-lander and anti-idiotarian individualist, fleeing the toxic cultural smug emitted by self-satisfied lotus-eating low-land Tesla-driving floppy-hat wearing lizadroid-Leftbat Califorganic eco-tofuistas ~

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