Classic .22 Range Day — The Rifles May Be Old, But The Memories Never Are

There are days at the range when I bring chronographs, expensive ammunition, precision rifles, targets, calipers and enough equipment to make it look like I am setting up a small laboratory.

I measure groups. I compare ammunition. I collect data.

Those of you who have followed DayAtTheRange for any amount of time know that is what I enjoy doing.

But every once in a while there is a range day where the group size really doesn’t matter.

This was one of those days.

And looking back on it more than a decade later, I think I understand that even better today than I did when I originally wrote this article in 2015.

Some Rifles Are Worth More Than Money

We live in a time of incredible firearms.

Precision rimfire rifles, carbon-fiber barrels, match chambers, sophisticated optics and ammunition capable of producing groups that would have been hard to imagine when some of these old .22 rifles were manufactured.

I love that stuff.

Anyone who reads DayAtTheRange knows I do.

But there are a few rifles in my safe that no amount of technology can replace.

Not because they are rare.

Not because they are expensive.

And certainly not because they will win a benchrest match.

They are priceless because they belonged to someone I loved.

Most of my classic .22 rifles came to me through family members. Along with the wood and steel came stories, memories and connections to people who are no longer here.

Anyone who has gone through the belongings of a family member after losing them probably understands how difficult that can be.

Then, occasionally, something stops you in your tracks.

For me, one of those moments was being handed Grandad’s old 1950s JC Higgins rifle along with a simple note:

“Grandson, bust all the pop cans you come across. This old rifle has plenty left.”

Even today, writing those words puts a lump in my throat.

And it still makes me smile.

Grandad was right.

That old rifle had plenty left.

As it turns out, it had more left in it than just bullets.

It had memories left to make.

Four Generations

That JC Higgins eventually became the rifle my son used for his first experience shooting a rifle.

Think about that for a moment.

An old .22 that could easily have been dismissed as outdated had now touched four generations of my family.

That is something a price tag can’t measure.

And that is why I have never really understood turning rifles like these into permanent safe queens.

I certainly believe in preserving firearms and taking care of them. But I also believe the people who handed these rifles down to us would probably rather see them doing what they were built to do.

Grandad’s note made his opinion pretty clear.

Go shoot it.

So I did.

Bringing The Old Rifles Back

Before this particular range trip, these rifles had spent far too much time sitting in the back of the safe.

I cleaned them up, refinished the stocks and tried to bring them back as closely as possible to how I remembered them.

Once I knew everything was functioning properly, there was really only one thing left to do.

Take them to the range.

The lineup that day was:

• Remington 550-1

• Marlin 81DL

• Sears/JC Higgins

• Three different brands of .22LR ammunition

Nothing exotic.

No multi-thousand-dollar precision rifle.

No giant scope.

Just old wood, old steel and a few boxes of .22 ammunition.

And maybe that was exactly the point.

They Still Had Plenty Left

All three rifles were manufactured before 1962.

Yet during the range session I didn’t experience a malfunction with any of them.

After getting the scopes adjusted, these old rifles settled right back into doing what they had been built to do decades earlier.

Shoot.

And shoot surprisingly well.

The ammunition for the day included:

Aguila Super Extra
Armscor .22LR
American Eagle .22LR

The Aguila Super Extra ended up shooting the best overall across the rifles.

The Remington 550-1 and Marlin 81DL were tested at 50 yards, while Grandad’s JC Higgins even stretched its legs with 10-shot groups at 100 yards.

Today I could probably take those targets, measure every group, build a spreadsheet, calculate percentages and produce enough graphs to keep myself entertained for an entire evening.

That has certainly become part of what DayAtTheRange is known for.

But I won’t do that to this range day.

Because that isn’t what this one was about.

The Most Important Measurement Wasn’t In Inches

Looking back, I realize the most valuable result from that day couldn’t be measured with calipers.

It was measured in memories.

Every scratch in those stocks has a story.

Every worn piece of bluing came from someone’s hands.

Someone carried these rifles through the woods.

Someone taught another person how to shoot with them.

Someone lined up a tin can and squeezed the trigger.

Someone smiled when they hit it.

And eventually one of those rifles made its way into my hands, and then into my son’s.

That’s a pretty impressive journey for an old .22.

Look At The Old Rifles

When I originally wrote this article, I encouraged parents looking for a first .22 rifle for a child to take a look at the used and surplus racks.

I still believe that.

There are wonderful new rifles available today, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with buying one.

But don’t automatically overlook an old rifle because the stock has a few scratches or because the design came from another generation.

You might find something inexpensive.

You might find something surprisingly accurate.

You might find a rifle with craftsmanship from another era.

And if the rifle doesn’t already have a family story attached to it, that’s okay.

Start one.

Take your son or daughter shooting.

Take your grandson or granddaughter.

Take a friend who has never fired a rifle before.

Let them shoot it.

Take pictures.

Save the targets.

Write the date somewhere.

Someday that ordinary afternoon at the range might not feel ordinary at all.

DayAtTheRange Has Changed — This Hasn’t

DayAtTheRange has changed quite a bit since I first wrote this story in 2015.

The rifles have become more precise.

The testing has become more detailed.

There are chronographs, suppressor tests, ammunition comparisons, challenges and enough group-size data around here to make a spreadsheet beg for mercy.

I enjoy every bit of it.

But underneath all of that, this is still what DayAtTheRange means to me.

Going to the range.

Sharing the experience.

Learning something.

And hopefully creating a memory worth keeping.

Accuracy matters.

Equipment matters.

Data matters.

But years from now, you probably aren’t going to remember whether a particular rifle shot a .487-inch group or a .612-inch group.

You will remember who was sitting beside you when you shot it.

That’s the part we sometimes forget.

Memory Makers

Grandad’s old JC Higgins wasn’t finished when he handed it down.

He knew that.

There were still pop cans to bust.

There was still a grandson who needed to shoot it.

Eventually there was a great-grandson who needed to shoot it too.

And hopefully its story isn’t finished yet.

So every now and then, open the back of the safe.

Take out that rifle that belonged to Dad.

Or Grandad.

Or an uncle.

Or an old friend.

Wipe it down.

Put a few rounds in your pocket.

Take someone you care about to the range.

Don’t worry about whether it is the newest, fastest or most accurate rifle you own.

And for once, maybe don’t even worry too much about the group size.

Just shoot it.

Because some rifles punch tiny holes in paper.

The special ones punch holes in time.

They connect generations.

And those are the rifles that become priceless.

Grandad and Mr. Allen (Luke), I still miss you guys.

I promised back in 2015 that I wouldn’t wait so long before taking these rifles back to the range.

More than a decade later, I understand something I probably didn’t completely understand when I made that promise:

These aren’t just old rifles.

They’re memory makers.

Mr. RevolverGuy
DayAtTheRange.com