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- Aug 25, 2014
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My brother called me up one Friday and asked what I was up to Saturday. Said he had just bought a 1100 and something was wrong with it.
Never being the type to turn down a chance to go shooting, we met up at a old derelict farm field a mile from my house. He pulled out the gun, and it was a really nice fancy version 1100. Claimed he couldn't hit a barn from inside with it.
Long story short, we sat up the thrower and loaded three birds in it for a triple. I busted all three on the first try. He jambs it back in the case and says, "Well, I guess it ain't the gun!"
He was used to shooting humpbacks like Brownings. I've always shot roundbacks like my Ithaca 37 pump. Damned if he didn't sell it the next week. I'd bought it in a heartbeat.
Never being the type to turn down a chance to go shooting, we met up at a old derelict farm field a mile from my house. He pulled out the gun, and it was a really nice fancy version 1100. Claimed he couldn't hit a barn from inside with it.
Long story short, we sat up the thrower and loaded three birds in it for a triple. I busted all three on the first try. He jambs it back in the case and says, "Well, I guess it ain't the gun!"
He was used to shooting humpbacks like Brownings. I've always shot roundbacks like my Ithaca 37 pump. Damned if he didn't sell it the next week. I'd bought it in a heartbeat.