I decided to take her out for a little exercise. It was cool! Cock the lever, pull the hammer back, and "POP". This was fun! All the way up to the moment that some how, not by fault of my own of course, the thing broke. I don't remember what happened. It just broke. You know that feeling you get when you take something that doesn't belong to you and this very thing happens? Thats right. I didn't ask. So what is a boy to do? I put it right back where it was and hoped that he would not notice. And wouldn't you know, he did.
He asked what happened to his gun. I shrugged my shoulders. He said "did you break it?". I nodded my head. You have to understand at this point that this guy was older by about six years. He was way bigger. And he would sometimes do things to demonstrate his strength like picking us younger ones up by the head and hold us up in the air. Hand under our jaw just holding us like a basket ball over his head feet dangling. He said, "Let me see yours." so he took it outside.
He must have had a fun time shooting mine, but when he came back in, he said "Yours broke too."
The pump was broken at the pivot of the hinge. Man was that a sad day for me. I took it outside to further investigate. How do you fix a thing like this? I figured out that the pivot of the pump handle had enough curve in the end to fit back on the pivot and with pressure just the right way, I was able to pump it.
This was still my companion and best friend next to my bicycle. We shot many things together and loved every bit of it.
Was that the fate? What kind of unhappy ending is this you may ask? Read on only if you have a strong stomach and an iron heart. The final day was very sad.
My father had a welding shop out in the country. This is where my grand adventures with air guns took place. One day our dog decided to chase a cat into a tall pile of brush behind the shop. It sounded horrible, the brush pile was shaking, the dog was making a loud noise like it was killing something. My father in some sort of lack of wisdom grabbed my beloved gun and knocked the living crap out of the dog. The dog leaped out of the brush and ran away. Fearing the worst, dad dug through the brush pile to his surprise, there was no cat to be found!
Thats right! No Cat! When I finally got my gun back, it was broken to pieces! Never to spit out any more BBs.
What a sad day.
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