Ruger's Auction To Benefit The Youth Shooting Sports Alliance

Ruger has put a great revolver on the auction block to tempt you this week; a Bisley Super Blackhawk in .44 Magnum, from 1987.  These are great for recreational shooting, hunting deer, elk, moose; or protecting yourself from grizzly bears.  You really can't go wrong with a revolver in .44 Magnum. This gun will sell mid-day, November 5, 2014, and 100% of the proceeds will go to benefit the Youth Shooting Sports Alliance.  Click Here, or on the photo to read all about it and to place your bid.

$1025.01

Tuesday Turbo Boost

Train 'em Young

Back To The Old Grind!

Not My Victrola: When The Work's All Done This Fall

This song comes to mind every year about this time.  It's an early Country/Western song, and it falls into what I call Pathetic Ballads.  It's meant to be a tear-jerker, and folks either love it or hate it.  Vernon Dalhart recorded many songs in this genre, like The Baggage Coach Ahead, It Was Sad When The Great Ship Went Down, The Wreck of the Old 97, and The Prisoner's Song; all good for flushing a speck out of your eye.  Bonus: this video comes with a little grey kitty-cat!

Weekend Steam: Here's One For Your Bucket List

Let's all go to Nevada!


On the chance that you might get to ride up front like this photographer, you stoke to the corners, bounce one off the flue sheet, and fill any dark spots. Holes in the fire let cold air hit the flues, and can make them leak.

Here's A Treat For You!

CCI Standard Velocity IN STOCK at Natchez Shooters Supply. Ten box limit; with shipping it will be just under $57.00.  Illinois residents must set up an account with their driver's license and FOID, and order by telephone.  Don't delay if you need .22 LR.

Crankin' It Up: What Day Is It?...

...Oh Yes, it's Halloween! Let's Go Down, Down, Down.


Two Black Crows In Hades by TrueBlueSam

The End Of The Beginning: Trench Warfare Begins

We are continuing reminiscences of the events a century ago as the Western Front invented itself, and The Great War became something.  German and French forces slugged it out as they worked their way to the sea, trying to outflank one another.  Trench warfare began in November, and the suffering that began with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand and Sophie would continue on in earnest for another four years (Or was it a century?).  Robert Service joined up at age 40, and he penned more poems than most of the WWI poets.  He was an old hand at listening to stories and putting them into verse, having developed this talent in the Yukon during the gold rush there.  As we go forward through the next four years of this sad centennial we will be visiting other Great War poets.  Mr. Service was kind to his readers, and most of his poems are either entertaining or thought-provoking.  Other poets we visit will take you deeper into the suffering of the soldiers in WWI.  Their voices also need to be heard, lest we forget the sacrifices made by fighting men for their countries. Now, a thrilling tale by Robert Service.

"This is what I have written of the finest troops in the Army of France:

Kelly of the Legion

Now Kelly was no fighter;
He loved his pipe and glass;
An easygoing blighter,
Who lived in Montparnasse.
But 'mid the tavern tattle
He heard some guinney say:
"When France goes forth to battle,
The Legion leads the way.

"The scourings of creation,
Of every sin and station,
The men who've known damnation,
Are picked to lead the way."

Well, Kelly joined the Legion;
They marched him day and night;
They rushed him to the region
Where largest loomed the fight.
"Behold your mighty mission,
Your destiny," said they;
"By glorious tradition
The Legion leads the way.

"With tattered banners flying
With trail of dead and dying,
On! On! All hell defying,
The Legion sweeps the way."

With grim, hard-bitten faces,
With jests of savage mirth,
They swept into their places,
The men of iron worth;
Their blooded steel was flashing;
They swung to face the fray;
Then rushing, roaring, crashing,
The Legion cleared the way.

The trail they blazed was gory;
Few lived to tell the story;
Through death they plunged to glory;
But, oh, they cleared the way!

Now Kelly lay a-dying,
And dimly saw advance,
With split new banners flying,
The fantassins of France.
Then up amid the melee
He rose from where he lay;
"Come on, me boys," says Kelly,
"The Layjun lades the way!"

Aye, while they faltered, doubting
(Such flames of doom were spouting),
He caught them, thrilled them, shouting:
"The Layjun lades the way!"

They saw him slip and stumble,
Then stagger on once more;
They marked him trip and tumble,
A mass of grime and gore;
They watched him blindly crawling
Amid hell's own affray,
And calling, calling, calling:
"The Layjun lades the way!"

And even while they wondered,
The battle-wrack was sundered;
To Victory they thundered,
But . . . Kelly led the way.

Still Kelly kept agoing;
Berserker-like he ran;
His eyes with fury glowing,
A lion of a man;
His rifle madly swinging,
His soul athirst to slay,
His slogan ringing, ringing,
"The Layjun lades the way!"

Till in a pit death-baited,
Where Huns with Maxims waited,
He plunged . . . and there, blood-sated,
To death he stabbed his way.

Now Kelly was a fellow
Who simply loathed a fight:
He loved a tavern mellow,
Grog hot and pipe alight;
I'm sure the Show appalled him,
And yet without dismay,
When Death and Duty called him,
He up and led the way.

So in Valhalla drinking
(If heroes meek and shrinking
Are suffered there), I'm thinking
'Tis Kelly leads the way."

Bessemer Mailbox Engine Update From Gary Bahre

Our friend Gary Bahre sent a photo to stir our hearts tonight.

The (extremely) rare two-stroke engine is moving along much faster than Gary thought it would, and this week the cylinder, piston, and rod are going to a machine shop for some serious surgery.  If we had kept this engine, it's future would be going nowhere. We always seem to have something more important than working on our old iron, and the Bessemer would be holding up a mailbox forever if we kept it.

I found this old engine near Blaine, Kentucky when Susan and I were newlyweds.  I spotted it as I went to a timber marking job with my co-workers, and went back after work with Susan to check it out.

It was up one of those hollows between Blaine and Martha, behind a ramshackle barn, and it didn't have a speck of paint on it.  The water jacket was brazed together because it had been frozen, and the connecting rod was broken.  The owner told us that it had been used to power a sorghum press, but it broke down and had been sitting for decades.  I offered him $50, (should have started lower), and that wasn't enough.  I didn't have any more disposable cash, so I threw in my Buck Stockman knife, and he liked that.  Susan and I took the cylinder off and backed the AMC Rebel Wagon up to it.  I picked up one side and she put bricks under it, and then we did the other side.  We got it up to the level of the floor that way and shoved it in.  I don't know why it didn't fall over and kill both of us, and I don't remember how I got it out when we got back to Prestonsburg.

We slapped some paint on it so the landlord wouldn't kick us out..

 

..and it followed us to Southern Illinois in 1980.  It became our Mailbox Engine in 1992, and that is how it was discovered by Gary Bahre.

Stay tuned for more updates on this unusual and rare engine!  By this time next year we should have photos and video of the old girl in action.

Ruger's Auction To Benefit The Youth Shooting Sports Alliance

One of the first Ranch Rifles from way back in 1982 is on the block this week, and the price is not far out of line as of Tuesday night. This fine little carbine will sell mid-day, Wednesday, October 29, so Click Over and place your bid to help a good cause, and maybe win a new rifle. 100% of the proceeds will go to the Youth Shooting Sports Alliance.

$1076