I still remember it well... My family was visiting my Uncle Gail, in the Audry State Park aera, near Clarksberg, West Virgina. It was a beautiful sunny day and we were going to get to shoot some of my uncle's rifles. I had never shot a gun before, and this was a great moment for a 9 year old boy. It could be the final victory to prove to my Dad that I was "truely" a young man. The rifle was "geared" in 30-06. They demonstrated all the safeties and precautions of handling a firearm. I was ready. I took aim at the old bottle that had been proped up on the split rail fence post. I lined the iron sights "dead-on". The trigger sinched backward slowly, and the anticipation sored with great expectations of glory and heroism BANG! The round let loose the power of God, and it filled the 1 and a half inches of space between the butt of the rifle and my tender, and soon to be bruised, shoulder. It propelled my 85 pound body upward and to the rear. I completed, not one, but two complete summer-saults, and lay there, pondering things of the cosmos. My Dad and uncle laughed for about twenty minutes, at my expense... and to the amazement of all involved, I shot it again, and hit the bottle this time.
As a side-note: Today I own and shoot a Remington 7400 semi-automatic "geared" in .270, NOT 30-06!
As a side-note: Today I own and shoot a Remington 7400 semi-automatic "geared" in .270, NOT 30-06!