Here’s the deal. I grew up in a time and place that was pretty much ideal. I grew up poor. When I wasn't working I walked the woods in summer and fed on wild berries and nuts. I learned to hunt. I observed all the ways of plants and animals. I became respectfully a part of it all. I never saw another person. I had the time of my life. I went and worshiped God on Sunday. I left that all behind for a while, got more of an education than I now know what to do with, and climbed to the top of the pile…and then I woke up one day and realized I had lost my soul. I sold everything I had, paid my debts, and I went home broke. My corporate friends thought I had lost my mind. A couple of years ago a visitor came through and said, ‘You’ve got a great collection of antiques!’ I replied, ‘Those are what I use to make my living.’ And I can actually pay my bills on what I do. I go 40 miles to town twice a week…Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings…even with that I’ve had crazy people harangue me for needing to drive less. Nothing stops the world from busting down my door whenever it wants. Yesterday an old guy I take fishing handed me an article on banning jig head fishing lures here. In the article it said that within a couple of years legislation is coming that will ban my 2-cycle outboard (told my wife I’d clean it up and put it in the kitchen for a new mix-master for her!). Having checked out of the game already I couldn’t afford it when I bought it..and there’s no way I will be able to buy a 4-cycle. And I’m sure that lead bullets will be next. But necessity’s the mother of invention and I'm really not discouraged. For a long time I’ve been hard at work keeping one step ahead of those who think they know better, nothing’s changed when it comes to another gun factory being sold.
I really don’t care what H&R or NEF or Remington or Cerberus or anyone else decides to do. Who are they, God? I love my Handi, but it's not the altar at which I worship. I don't confuse ends with means. (This is my official answer.)
When my life depended on a corporate income I was a slave. When I was caught in the trap of what my neighbor thought I should pay in property tax to support his weird values, the snare snugged just a bit tighter every day. There’s one thing alone that matters in life and brings me happiness, and I’m glad I know what it is.
I really could care less what anyone thinks about what I’ve written here. If you want to do me a favor, then work on something that will benefit shooters, hunters, fishers, and Handi owners in the days ahead. Oh, has anyone come up with an invention that will change my 2-cycle to a 4-cycle outboard?
Doc