The first Weapon I ever shot

My Dad's Stevens Model 87A .22 caliber rifle

1969 was a turbulent time in America.  The Watts riots, Vietnam, anti-war protests.  My father's world was changing and not for the better.  Dad saw all of the civil unrest and decided to take steps to protect his family from any possible trouble.  He had brought back a Walther PP and a Walther PPK as souvenirs from WWII, but when he married Mom she let him know that there would be NO GUNS IN HER HOUSE!!...Dad gave the pistols to his brother.  Twenty years had passed, times had changed, and Dad was insistent: He was getting a rifle.  Dad turned to his good friend Henry Heisch, a retired Sears Department store manager who enjoyed travel, rockhounding, drinking and guns.  He sold my Dad a semi-automatic Stevens .22 cal rifle. Model 87A.  I still remember the sense of awe I felt as I watched Dad hold it and turn it over in his hands. Testing its weight he said: "This reminds me of the gun I carried in the Army-lightweight and handy"(He was talking about the M-1 Carbine)  Henry took us all out to a nearby sand quarry and let us test fire it.  What surprised me the most is that after my incessant "please, can I shoot it?" Dad finally laid me down on the ground and set the rifle next to my cheek, helped me place my left hand under the stock just forward of the trigger guard, my right arm under the buttstock, my finger up to the trigger and told me to look at the sights and try to aim at the can.  Then he told me to pull the trigger.  This I knew how to do from playing cowboys and indians with capguns.  I stared more at the ribbed metal that enclosed the bolt than I did at the sights and I pulled the trigger.

I could see the bolt through the metal ribs

 I heard a loud crack, my ears started to ring, and I smelled for the first time the distinct smell of burned gunpowder.  Out of the corner of my eye I had seen a flash of metal after I had shot and so the next time I pulled the trigger I watched to see what was happening instead of watching down range.  What I saw was the  bolt as it recoiled to the rear to eject and load another bullet. Of course I didn't know that then.  Luckily my father was also holding the rifle and kept me from killing anyone!
Dad purchased the Stevens and took it home.  He carefully placed it in it's black plastic sleeve, folded over the end and tied it off and placed it in his closet in his room in the basement. He turned to see me wide-eyed watching him.  He picked me up and set me on the bed and told me in no uncertain terms that I was to NEVER pick up, touch, or even try to look at that gun when he wasn't around.  I solemnly nodded my head and said "yes Daddy" and then went up stairs with my Dad...About 3 minutes later when I was sure he wasn't watching I snuck down the scary steps and without turning on the lights braved the dark hallway back to my Dad's room.  Opening the closet door, I started to untie the knot in the folded over plastic that covered the rifle.  Being a father myself now and with the clarity of 41 years I realize that I had been set up.  My father knew exactly what I was going to do and was just waiting to give me the worst beating of my young life when I did it!  WHAM!  the door burst open and my father unleashed!  Down came the pants for a "bare bottom spanking"  the worst, and most feared punishment in our house.  I wailed and cried but...I NEVER touched that gun again without my Dad.
In 1999 my father passed away  and the ol' Stevens passed to me.  I took my family out and let my sons and daughters shoot it.  I remember when my youngest son turned five and I had him shoot it like I did.  I helped him hold it in his too short hands and helped his little finger find the trigger.  I wonder if he looked down range or was more interested in the movement of the bolt.  I can understand if he was.

Broken Bolt
Techincal Note:  in 2005 the bolt snapped and I spent about a year looking for one.  After much fruitless searching I finally tried Numrich arms and found a replacement.  It is back in firing condition and I plan to pass it to one of my sons one day.