While perusing through my stepfathers' .22s I found this lovely beauty. He told me it was the black sheep of his father's guns and never shot very well.
I took the stock, beaten and scarred as it was, added my own carved flair, and refinished it. I then gave it a thorough cleaning and put it all back together.
Now this once black sheep of the family, has lost a little weight, has a great new look, and can peg a pop can from a hundred yards every time.
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