The Rohm RG-10 revolver is a notoriously dangerous "Saterday night special" poorly made gun in which frequently the cylinder does not align with the barrel and when you pull the trigger as much lead may come out the sides of the gun as out the front.Well, let's have a second opinion.
They have a HORRIBLE reputation. They break after very little use.
The BEST thing you can do is break the hammer off with a pair of pliers and then save the gun until the next "buy back" offer and turn it in for the money.
[Y]ou would have to pay me to take the gun out of your hands. I have one that I bought in the early '60's for about $10. and you would be fortunate to get that for it today. The proverbial Saturday Night Special!Hm. Perhaps a third opinion?
Well, my grandfather carried better guns himself. So did his wife, as a matter of fact. I think I'll keep the thing as a memento only. For shooting, I have a Ruger Single Six that serves the same purpose far better.
4 comments:
My grandfather gave a pistol to my father many years ago, back when they were working a service station on I-75 near Knoxville together.
My uncle graduated from high school at age 15 during the Depression. He obviously had the mind for college, but didn't have the money, so he went into business. At age 16 he was a partner in a gas station. The partner cheated him and left my uncle penniless. My uncle didn't let that experience defeat him, and went on to a successful life. Three decades later after the gas station fiasco, my uncle's son was attending college. One of my cousin's landlords at college turned out to be the guy that had cheated my uncle.
My grandfather was a welder by profession. His father had too many sons for them all to inherit the family farm, such as it was, and the other option was mining. So he sent his boys as he could manage to trade schools or apprenticeships, so they'd have a chance to do something else. During the Great Depression, when there was just no other work even for a skilled tradesman, my grandfather welded stills for those who weren't big fans of Prohibition. (Or perhaps they were, some of them, if you take my meaning.)
During the war, they wouldn't let him in the Army because he was a skilled welder. So after three times trying to sign up, he went to work for the government as a tradesman and ended up at Oak Ridge. He helped build the first atomic bombs, without knowing it of course.
My father was born right after the war, and grew up while my grandfather had opened a shop doing body work and servicing long-haul trucks. It was also, by coincidence, the high period for American automotives: dad grew up working on 40 Fords and 57 Chevys, and all the other iconic machines of the era. He could tell at a glance what any classic car was, because at some point he'd have torn it all the way down and built it back up again with his dad or his brother.
If government and the trilateral commission had created a gun reserve, much like the federal reserve, to protect the consumers and users of guns, they wouldn't need to worry about disarming people as much now.
It was only because they allowed humans to solve the issue of gun safety and workmanship on their own, that they have such dramatic challenges now.
Controlling guns in the early days, should have been no less difficult than confiscating all the gold and then making it disappear. Rumor has it that the international new world order, the Rockefellers and others at J Island and the federal reserve, has somehow disappeared every single piece of gold from Ft. Knox, probably because it's all paper gold now, and electronic money floating around. Who actually ended up with the gold, is hard to detect. Perhaps that'll come when people figure out who owns the federal reserve, as it isn't the politicians.
: dad grew up working on 40 Fords and 57 Chevys, and all the other iconic machines of the era. He could tell at a glance what any classic car was, because at some point he'd have torn it all the way down and built it back up again with his dad or his brother.
I am reminded of a neighbor about your father's age whose family owned a garage. Like your father, he could tear down and rebuilt a car at an early age. He ended up teaching auto repair at a technical high school. That doesn't exactly support the old adage, "Those who can't, teach."
my grandfather welded stills for those who weren't big fans of Prohibition. (Or perhaps they were, some of them, if you take my meaning.)
I am reminded of the time I heard a radio ad against the legalization of marijuana which ended more or less like this: "This is a public service announcement brought to you by the National Association of Distillers." [or some such name]
Post a Comment