It was summer 1980 something. The day dawned like any other. The phone rang. An unfamiliar voice on the other end...the friend of a friend who gave up my number. The guy had a problem with his new to him Series 80 Government Model. "It won't work" is the only description he gave me.
When he arrived, he told me that the gun wouldn't eject an empty case and feed another round...but it wasn't your run of the mill failure to eject/failure to feed. He said that he had another friend watch the gun closely, and the slide didn't appear to move.
?? "uh...wut? It's recoil operated. The slide has to move." I said as I hand cycled the slide slowly.
"Well, it doesn't"
We stepped outside with a few rounds in a magazine to see WTH was up...and sure enough, the slide didn't move. Or at least it didn't appear to move. It moved. It just didn't move very much. About a quarter inch to be exact. I had me some suspicions, but because it could be one of two things...I held my tongue.
Field stripped the gun and there it was. Bubba had rained on his parade and interrupted my morning.
15 minutes later, the pistol was shuckin' and jivin' in proper fashion...and then I gave him the bad news.
What in the name of Mose Browning could stop a slide in its tracks?
Little things. Little things, he was heard mumbling.
On your marks! Get set! Go!
When he arrived, he told me that the gun wouldn't eject an empty case and feed another round...but it wasn't your run of the mill failure to eject/failure to feed. He said that he had another friend watch the gun closely, and the slide didn't appear to move.
?? "uh...wut? It's recoil operated. The slide has to move." I said as I hand cycled the slide slowly.
"Well, it doesn't"
We stepped outside with a few rounds in a magazine to see WTH was up...and sure enough, the slide didn't move. Or at least it didn't appear to move. It moved. It just didn't move very much. About a quarter inch to be exact. I had me some suspicions, but because it could be one of two things...I held my tongue.
Field stripped the gun and there it was. Bubba had rained on his parade and interrupted my morning.
15 minutes later, the pistol was shuckin' and jivin' in proper fashion...and then I gave him the bad news.
What in the name of Mose Browning could stop a slide in its tracks?
Little things. Little things, he was heard mumbling.
On your marks! Get set! Go!
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