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How old were you when you first shot a firearm?

 

I don't recall exactly how old I was but I was in the Boy Scouts. I was at summer camp. I think it was a bolt action 22. I also shot a shotgun. Clay shooting. It costs money to do the clay shooting and I probably only took 3 or 4 shots. I remember I hit the clay at least once. I was probably around 11 or 12.

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I was a Boy Scout at summer camp at Mount Allamuchy. I was probably 11 or 12 too and decided to take both rifle and shotgun that year. Other than the fact that the ranges were ALL the way at the top of the mountain, it was worth it.

 

I still have some of my rifle targets, five rounds of .22 all in the black at 25 yards. Not bad for no formal training.

 

As far as shotgun goes? The first time I got up, I shot 5/5. That's when I got the bug. The next time, I was somewhere around 7/10.

 

Needless to say 15 or so years later, I'm getting back into it all again. 

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Probably 7 in the mountains of Harlan co Kentucky with my grandfather and uncle a 22 high standard with thumb rest grip and a rohm 22 revolver. First rifle probably 12 unless you count BB gun. It was a 03/a3 and I didnt have it tight man that hurt. But last time I did that :)

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How old were you when you first shot a firearm?

 

I don't recall exactly how old I was but I was in the Boy Scouts. I was at summer camp. I think it was a bolt action 22. I also shot a shotgun. Clay shooting. It costs money to do the clay shooting and I probably only took 3 or 4 shots. I remember I hit the clay at least once. I was probably around 11 or 12.

 

10 years old, independent summer day camp. The "bus driver/ handy man" for the camp was an military guy and an NRA instructor, it would seem.We had access to the indoor range at a local private school. We shot .22 single shot bolt action rifles in prone position.

 

He was a great guy. He actually ran the camp's annual summer "night bivouac" for the kids in forest some park in Cedar Grove. He'd put up  military style "single pole" tent, dig the Latrine, etc. etc. One night for the girls, one for the boys. Whichever gender (and counselors) went for the first night would be responsible for setting it all up, and the other for taking it down after the second night.

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First time ever firing a gun was in upstate new York with my brother when he took me hunting. We didn't find anything but before we left he let Me shoot his bolt action at a tree. No idea what caliber or anything.

 

No idea how old o was bit I couldn't have been older than 12

Sent from my XT1080 using Tapatalk

 

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Age 7, single shot .22 rifle, on the family farm out west.  My dad, and my son, also started at age 7, all with the same rifle.   I hope to keep that tradition going.

 

I hit the tin can with my first shot;  I proudly brought the can and the empty casing to school for show and tell the next morning.    I hate to think what kind of overreaction that would prompt today, were it done in NJ.

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Some kind of pellet gun when I was 5 or 6.

First center-fire, when I was 30+.

 

I guess it's never too late. In fact...

 

Although my dad was a gun owner, mom was a super-anti, so us kids didn't get to have any fun.

She's now pro-2A and at 71 got her first gun (a GP, of course).

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I cant remember the exact age, but I think i was 13 or 14 and my dad took me into a field and had me shoot a 22 marlin rifle.  I was a terrible shot, we were out there for about half an hour, I hit just about nothing.  I did not enjoy it (i was more into sports, could have cared less about shooting anything at the time).  That was the last time I fired a weapon of any kind until I was 38.  I only vaguely remember that first time.  At 38, the wife and I decided it was time I learn how to shoot the gun she purchased 17 years prior (before I knew her) since she hated the gun (SW 640) and hadnt fired it since she bought it.  Went to the range and rented a couple guns as well as brought hers.  Once I took my first shot with a GP100, I was hooked and the rest, as they say, is history..

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Some kind of pellet gun when I was 5 or 6.

First center-fire, when I was 30+.

 

I guess it's never too late. In fact...

 

Although my dad was a gun owner, mom was a super-anti, so us kids didn't get to have any fun.

She's now pro-2A and at 71 got her first gun (a GP, of course).

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I guess it's never too late. In fact...

 

Although my dad was a gun owner, mom was a super-anti, so us kids didn't get to have any fun.

She's now pro-2A and at 71 got her first gun (a GP, of course).

That is pretty awesome. Do you know why she was anti? Was it b/c there were children in the house and she was worried somebody may get hurt or was there another reason?

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You'll have to keep this in perspective and realize I grew up in Texas.

My dad bought me my first .22 when I was 5, but I was shooting a bb gun prior to that. My .22 was a Savage single shot. I LOVED that little rifle.

I took my first deer at age 7 with a Remington Mohawk 600 in .243.

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About 13 or 14, a .22 Romanian Trainer rifle. 

 

This was actually in Romania, as part of doing our patriotic duty of being ready to defend the country from you evil western capitalists dogs, So starting in like 7th or 8th grade they would drag us out to range once a semester, hand us 3 bullet each, no instruction, and say shoot that cardboard over there. We had to hand them back the empty cases. 

 

Funny thing, our school had a closet full of .22 rifles. They actually handed out the trainer rifles to each school, which then designated one of the teachers as HMFIC for watching over the guns and dragging out the students to the range. I can still remember my half crazed math teacher who was also the designated aforementioned HMFIC.

 

And finally, for extra humor value, we didn't have school buses, so we traveled half way across Bucharest, on public transport, dragging rifles with us. This was in a country where civilian gun ownership was severely restricted.

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That is pretty awesome. Do you know why she was anti? Was it b/c there were children in the house and she was worried somebody may get hurt or was there another reason?

Mostly the kids and the typical unfounded fears: what if it "just goes off", etc.

 

It literally took no more than an hour of explaining to her how guns actually work and why the police can't be everywhere, so it's your responsibility to protect yourself for her to come around.

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was at a friends farm in upstateNY 12-13 yrs old. His dad handed us a couple of single shot 22s and after an extensive session on safety and training-"be careful where you point those things" lol, spent the weekend pulling the triggers. Was soon after that I joined the town junior marksman program at the police range. Rode my bicycle there lol

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My Dad and I have discussed this a few times, we both think I MIGHT have/probably did shoot before ... but we both agree on a memory that we generally accept as my first time. A life-event caused there to be a humongous dirt mountain in our backyard, which was already on a dead end street surrounded by farm fields. It started with him picking me up from school, (1st grade ) and he had me fill a bunch of two liter soda bottles with water... then go place them on the dirt pile. Then he started smiling, because I still didn't figure it out... so he produced his .38 Sp S&W revolver he carried when in plainclothes as a detective. And all I can say is, man I got excited! The first few shots I fired, he was behind me with his huge hands around mine. But as I got comfortable and I did get very comfortable, he stepped back and let me take over. I am not sure if I hit any water bottles, but I hit the spot inside of a life long love. I was 6, and as I said, we think there might have been times before but we both remember this particular time.

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About 12 or 14 in the boy scouts...

 

Bolt action .22LR's - only allowed to load 1 round at a time... boring....

 

At summer camp my troop got an allotment of tickets for shotgun shells.... Nobody else in my troop wanted to do the shotgun shooting merit badge... I did it and used up all the tickets myself :)

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I was about 6 iirc and shot a 22 (iirc) revolver at a pice of drywall leaning up against a concrete retaining wall in the parking lot of the apartment my father had. He had the last garage around back of the building and it was in front of that. Ironically enough both he or I rented the same garage there up until this year when they finally got rid of me.

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About 13 or 14, a .22 Romanian Trainer rifle. 

 

This was actually in Romania, as part of doing our patriotic duty of being ready to defend the country from you evil western capitalists dogs, So starting in like 7th or 8th grade they would drag us out to range once a semester, hand us 3 bullet each, no instruction, and say shoot that cardboard over there. We had to hand them back the empty cases. 

 

Funny thing, our school had a closet full of .22 rifles. They actually handed out the trainer rifles to each school, which then designated one of the teachers as HMFIC for watching over the guns and dragging out the students to the range. I can still remember my half crazed math teacher who was also the designated aforementioned HMFIC.

 

And finally, for extra humor value, we didn't have school buses, so we traveled half way across Bucharest, on public transport, dragging rifles with us. This was in a country where civilian gun ownership was severely restricted.

Vlad, I just pissed myself, lol!

 

Have a GREAT weekend and say hello to the Boss for me!

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Vlad, I just pissed myself, lol!

 

Dude you have no idea. Teachers didn't have personal offices, but the math teacher (I wish I remembered his name) decided to use the weapons closet/room as his office seeing how he was the only one with the keys. So whenever you had to deal with him for school crap you did it surrounded by .22 rifles.

 

Plus he was also in charge of like 20 dummy grenades which I have no idea what we were supposed to use for, so he would bring them to class and juggle them and occasionally fling them at your head if you weren't paying attention. They were rubber but they were heavy enough.  If you ever seen the "Dodgeball" movie, think of the bag of wrenches scene

 

 

 

 

The range we used to go to was actually in the middle of the biggest park in the city, which was strange enough, but the side "berms" were like 40 year old concrete that was more holes then concrete and the backstop was the same with some heavy hay bales in front if it, in various states of decay. It is a miracle we didn't  casually murder random people walking their dogs. 

 

When I say we received no instruction, I mean NO instruction, I suppose they figured if you can't work out how to operate the bolt you probably shouldn't be trusted with a gun anyway so its safer if they don't explain it to you so my quota of 3 rounds was supplemented by whatever I could get from the girls who didn't want to be bothered with it.

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