The old nickel S&W .38 break-top is a family gun of ours. My dad bought it for $10 when I was about eight, and it was a thing of mystery and beauty the entire time I was growing up. I could “look at the gun” anytime I wanted to, I just had to ask. No end of bank-robbers and bad guys met their fate in my imagination, while I held that gun carefully on my lap. I think it fostered my desire to be a cop later on. I can still feel the snappy recoil of those .38 S&W rounds in my eight-year old hands and I can’t pick the gun up today without doing some time traveling. It has my own eight-year old hands on it still, and it’s a eerie feeling to have my now 55-year old hands meet them. I almost feel like I’m shaking hands with that gun-crazy little boy all those years ago. I only wish I could have whispered back over the decades to him in a dream to assure him his passion would turn into a lifetime of enjoyment, opportunity and adventure.