This one got an unfair showing above. I took a whole week after I retired from the Army to drive from Tombstone, Az to Flagstaff dedicating the entire drive to dirt. Ended up using something like 11 miles on asphalt the whole way. One of the amazing places I found while following the San Pedro River was an old, no screwin' 'round trading post with its own dirt air strip beside it.
Inside, while digging the vibe of the place, I noticed a sad and ill-attentioned shotgun over the *bar*. When I asked about it they said it was "... jes for lookin' at..." but were happy to show it to me.
I fell instantly in love with it. Plumb-colored steel, the stock was cracked at the grip, the sear had not been searin' lately and the rust was just enough to be scaring off the straights.
After whiling much of the afternoon away (imagine - RC colas and moon-pies in Arizona!), cracking wise and letting my Rottweiler's charms do their work I asked if they cared to part with it and since I had the good sense to be sociable rather than carpet-baggery they said why-not with warnings as to its sad state of being.
Here now, I wasn't scared of ghosty tales (yup; J.J.) and dire predictions surrounding the ultimate condition of
all well-shot '97s. I had resurrected several for CAS friends to keep them from buying ChiCom knock-offs in the past. As far as the stock was concerned, I have a weird affinity for brass pin/screws and sinew in the case of wandering cracks.
In the end, this 1911 '97 which was once a *Full Choke* hunter, knocked down in the distant past to a Ranch-Riot, has become one of my all time favorite guns of any platform.
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Todd.