The smell of Hoppe's #9 has always reminded me of the old home place. I remember my great grandpa setting in an old bentwood rocker cleaning his guns by the fireplace. My old Pap was a gun nut. He was always carrying two or three pistols. He gave 'em names; Arron, John and Little John. They had something to do with people he rode with during the war. His brother or something. I don't know. I remember him teaching us kids to shoot though. He was always real patient and demonstrated everything two or three times before he'd let us try.
"Stand with your feet shoulder width a part and your left foot just a head of your right. Yank that pistol out of your crossdraw holster. Two Hands! Cock it with your left thumb. Site down the barrell and cover your target. Exhale and squeeze the trigger gently. Cock it again and put four more into him. Shove that pistol back into your crossdraw holster and reach for your strong side. Yank that big iron out! Two Hands! Cock it with your left thumb and fire five more just for meaness."
Pap was a big one for shootin alot. He always said "You don't wanta loose a gunfight for not shootin enough!" Somthing else he said that has always stuck with me; "The Partisan Ranger's Rules of Gunfighting are Shoot First, Shoot Fast, Shoot Most, Shoot Often and Shoot Last!" Like I said, my old Pap was a gun nut.