By Brian Mead
The atmosphere is hectic. People, hundreds if not thousands of them, are milling around the giant expo center, a place that could more accurately be described as a humongous warehouse differently preoccupied. They are of every stripe and origin, pale and swarthy, male and female, old and young, local and foreign. They navigate around the tables like river trout navigating rocks. I am just one of them on this lazy, wintry Sunday afternoon . . .
But why are we all here? If we are so different, what single thing could possibly join us all in one mass of humanity?
The right to defend life and home in the gravest extreme, the right to keep and bear arms. Before long, I walk out with my prize, an old relic of a war nearly gone from living memory.
I sit crosslegged on my bed, my prize, a Mosin-Nagant 91/30 lying before me. They had been selling these by the crate at the show; I could have claimed any I wanted, but out of all of them, I had chosen this one. Now that I am home under the bright lights, I can look over this singular artifact.
The initial inspection tells me nothing …read more
Source:: Truth About Guns