Oh man, oh man. The high speed runs we made to Middendorfs! Whew, that was a lifetime ago. I had a '69 GTO with a 400hp 400 that could take a friends 911 Turbo until about 100, then it was lights out with that fucking German car. At about 110 the Goat started floating and I had to just keep the center of the hood on the centerline of those two lanes, which seemed incredibly narrow at that speed, up to about 135. Then he was just gone.
If you can imagine this, below is the first centerfire I had of my own. A few years short of being allowed to drive we were parked in front of Puglias. Too young to buy ammo we sat and waited for two older guys to approach and we walked up to them, cash in hand, saying something like "hey, we are not old enough..." they laughed and said they would not be buying any alcohol. We quickly set the record straight and we only wanted a few boxes of 303. They paused, then laughed even harder. Then they bought us ammo. And if you can imagine this happening today... on a Redline BMX bike with this rifle slung, headed own Carrolton, hanging a left on S Claiborne, then making our way over to Airline, and all the way to Bonnet Carre spillway. And there we would unleash the fury.
I have since refinished the rifle, which I halfway regret, but only halfway. So this is part of my view right now. As much as I'm looking at this rifle I'm looking at some kids riding to a great adventure, almost 40 years ago.
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