.22’s And The Cycle Of Life
Most of us cut our shooting teeth with a .22 of some sort. For me, it was a Harrington & Richardson “Plainsman” bolt-action rifle for my 8th Birthday. Be it single-shot, bolt-action, semi-auto, pistol, revolver, or rifle, a .22 rimfire was chambered in all.
As kids, we’d go through buckets of .22 ammo. By shooting garden pests and vermin, we learned about trajectory and just how deadly the humble .22 was.
Most of us graduated to center-fire cartridges and bigger guns, sometimes forgetting about our meek, mild mannered mentor, sometimes for years. Then we’d be knocked back into reality seeing someone like Terry Murbach, sitting in his camp chair, elbows resting on his crossed left leg, shooting a favored Ruger Bearcat or maybe a custom Bowen Ruger Single-Six.
Taking in the scene of this experienced shooter and ballistician, who loaded for over 135 cartridges, Terry had the look of serenity and serious fun plastered on his face, resembling an 8-year old kid shooting for the first time. That’s the kind of power the .22 has.
Why beat yourself up with recoil and muzzle-blast, when you can sit all day in a favorite chair, leaning over and grabbing a handful of cartridges, enthusiastically loading your shooter. Each ejected piece of fired brass kicks out another present-day problem, taking us back to the days of our trouble-free youth.
Terry knew this, yet didn’t tout it, he just did it, as many savvy, experienced shooters do. What could be simpler? As Terry’s bulk box of Federal .22 ammo dwindled down, his perpetual frown started to disappear and an actual snaggle-toothed grin appeared beneath his matted beard. Funny how .22’s make that happen.