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Dad always carried one thing with him in the car, wherever we went. His Bible, given to him by my mother in 1935.

In June of 1973, I gave him the Highway Patrolman for his 58th birthday, and it became his second traveling companion for the rest of his life. I'd added the target stocks...remember when you could buy S&W factory stocks at gun shops and hardware stores? I also included a suede-lined Bianchi holster. I took dad to the range to acquaint him with the gun. I'd figured I might have to give him a few pointers. Silly me. Much to my amazement, he assumed the classic one-handed bullseye stance and pulled off six full power shots, all but one of them going into the black at fifteen yards. Take my word for it, your jaw really does drop open with astonishment. Dad turned to me with a big grin on his face as he shucked out the empties and said, "Bet that'd make a bad boy stop what he's doing, wouldn't it?" I've used variations of those words ever since.

But I'd never known my dad could shoot like that. He was pretty closed-mouth about his childhood and growing up in the Great Depression. He'd never mentioned guns to me except in random conversations. Years later, mom told me he'd carried a gun at "the mill" in Lancaster, South Carolina in the thirties, but wouldn't say anything else about it. I knew he had an old Stevens .22 bolt action tucked away in a closet, but as a boy I paid it no mind. One time I'd found some kind of nickel plated break top revolver in the chest of drawers when I was a kid, but it disappeared, never to be seen again. Dad may have hocked it, since we always seemed to be short of money for a while. And he'd given me a single barrel Stevens 12-gauge for Christmas in 1964 and showed me how to shoot it, but I wasn't all that interested at the time. I do still have his .22 rifle and the single barrel shotgun, by the way.

After dad passed away, the gun sort of disappeared into the depths of mom's house. And at that time I'd moved on into other things besides guns, and I'm sorry to say the Highway Patrolman faded from my mind.

Years later, can't remember how long, I was helping mom clean out the house, and I found the gun way back up under dad's old bed. Still in its holster, still loaded after all those years. The gun's finish is somewhat worse for wear in spots because of being in the holster all those years. There are some scratches, too, because he had a habit of keeping it under the driver's seat of the car at times. And the right hand stock has darkened.

So I still have the 28-2, along with the holster, the original box and tools and purchase receipt. I still have his Bible, too. I cleaned the gun up as best I could. I take it to the range now and again, but it hasn't had two hundred rounds through it, even to this day. I even tried shooting it bullseye style. I can't do it like dad did, but it makes me smile to try.

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WOW, what a great story, and memories shared. I can only imagine that this Model 28 will last for a few more generations in your family.
Thanks for sharing something so personal.

Regards,
Gearchecker
 

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Interesting story and a pleasure to read. Great history with the HP and fond memories to go along with it. Thanks for sharing.:cool:
 
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Great memory. Thank you for sharing. Brought a smile on a rainy day. I feel pretty much the same way about my Dad's 1947 K-22. He used it to shoot pheasants from his truck. Never had to worry about bird shot in his birds.

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What a great story... you're blessed to have those items as a memento of your Father. It's all too easy to lose things to both time and circumstances.
 

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Great reading! Thanks for posting
 
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