September 25, 2014--Willy, Ben, and Me: Ruger SR-762

"Ben told me you're in the market for a 22."

"Not exactly. But I am thinking about it."

"Glad to hear," Willy said with a  broad grin, "To be a real Mainer a man needs to be armed."

"Not armed," I said, "But, you know, for target practice and Rona has a few groundhogs tearing up her perennial bed that I'd like to scare off."

"Scare or shoot?" Ben asked.

"Maybe give 'em a jolt," I said, "I'm not sure I'm into killing them."

"There's no other way," Willy insisted. "They don't scare."

"I suppose we could try to trap them," I thought.

"What's your problem? Jolt 'em, scare 'em, trap 'em, kill 'em. It's all about the same thing."

"I'm not so sure I agree. Though since I'll never get to be a good shot if I try to just wing 'em I'll probably miss or if I do hit 'em I'm as likely to kill 'em as anything."

We went back and forth about this one morning over coffee and then a few days later Willy gave me one of his magazines, "Just to look through" he said. "Don't show this to your New York friends," he whispered, "But this may help you think about what weapon to buy."

He slid an issue of American Rifleman surreptitiously to me across the banquette we shared. As if to hide the transfer from the other diners.

"Not a weapon," I cringed, "A rifle. A 22. You know, not much more than a BB gun. But thanks for this. Though from the cover it looks like it does feature weapons."

There was a closeup picture of something menacing-looking called Heavy Metal--Ruger's Sr-762 replete with a dozen or so bullets scattered about that looked as if they could pierce armor. "Not exactly what the Fourth Amendment is about," I said under my breath while flipping through the pages.

"There he goes again," Ben said with an gesture of exasperation. "If the Founders were writing the Constitution today they'd include semi-automatic and automatic weapons."

There was that "weapons" word again. "I'm not so sure," I said. Wasn't that constitutional provision so the new United States could have a 'well-regulated militia'? Since at the time there wasn't a standing army and so--"

"And so," Willy said, as if to complete my thought, "if necessary men would be called up and they'd have a weapon of their own to bring along with them. To fight the English and Indians and who knows who else."

"But now?" I asked, "We have a standing army, God knows, and a navy and air force and marines. When you join up, they supply the weapons. Guns, tanks, ammunition, everything. You don't show up with your own Rugger SR-762, whatever that is."

"The Ruger's not for that," Willy said, again with his voice lowered.

"What's it for, then?"

We usually avoid discussions of this kind, but I wasn't that morning in the mood for that. I was upset with what was written about and, more, advertised for sale in the American Rifleman, especially after I noticed it's a publication of the NRA, the National Rifle Association.

"Let me read what your magazine has to say about this weapon." I was unusually worked up. For the most part I try to remain calm and rational when having discussions about controversial subjects with Willy and Ben, looking for areas of common ground. For, among other reasons, because I like them. But the Ruger SR-762 was testing my restraint.

I read to them--

Breathe in, breathe out. Squeeze, squeeze, squee (sic)--bang! I rode the recoil back onto the target just in time to catch the contrail from my bullet making a steep right curve toward it and then vanishing, leaving only a gray splatter on the red steel gong. The target was hidden halfway up the face of the opposing hill, across a ravine and 10 to 15 degrees below my position. After what seemed like minutes, the distinct "thud" sound reached my ears, confirming what I had already witnessed: a first round hit at 800 yds.

"So?" Willy wondered.

"So, tell me what this is about--shooting across ravines at targets 800 yards away. That doesn't sound like hunting to me."

"What does it sound like?" Ben asked, sounding genuinely curious about what I had to say.

"It sounds like combat. Maybe even sniping."

Willy and Ben exchanged a glance then lowered their eyes to avoid mine. They remained unusually quiet.

"Look," I said, feeling awkward, "It's good writing. Really good. I'll give you that. But this is not about target practice or hunting or sportsmanship. As I said, it sounds like what the military trains its recruits to do. And take a look at the picture of the Ruger." I held the magazine up to them. "I'm for sure no expert but it looks more like an AK 47 to me than a hunting or target rifle."

"You're not right about that," Willy said. "An AK 47 has--" I cut him off.

"Well, in your magazine," I underscored the your again, "there are ads for AK 47s. Here. Take a look at both weapons. There is a strong resemblance between the two."

Ben had taken the magazine from me. He was thumbing through it, leaving Willy on his own to deal with cantankerous me.

"If you want to fit in here, or for that matter in most of America, you have to get comfortable with sportsmen and hunters and--"

"I'm quite comfortable with all that," I said to Willy, "My problem is not with them but with these high-powered weapons in the hands of dangerous people. That has nothing to do with hunting and clomping around in the woods."

"Look at this," Ben said, reentering the fray, but smiling.

"What's that?" I was happy to change the subject. I had said my piece.

"An ad for a 22. The sort of rifle you're looking to buy."

"I'm not looking to buy one; I'm thinking about it."

"It's made by Ruger too," Ben said. He passed the magazine back to me.

"Does it have a wooden stock?" I asked. "If I get one--and remember I'm only thinking about it--it has to have a wood stock. I don't want a weapon, I mean a rifle with a cheesy plastic one."

"That one does," Willy joined in. Now he had the magazine and folded it back to the page with the 22 ad. Tussling was over. He was again being helpful.

He read to me--

50 YEARS LATER and the Ruger 10/22 is still "the ultimate in logical design." 

"It's a commemorative issue," Willy added, again turning the magazine to me. "A limited addition. I know you're only thinking, but if you decide to get one, I recommend this one to you." He winked at me. "And it's perfect for getting after Rona's groundhogs."

Ruger SR-762