Fifteen years ago I did not own an assault rifle, and from here on we will use this term in the same way the all-knowing “mainstream” media does even though it is incorrect. My only semiauto rifle was a Ruger 10/22 customized by Jimmy Clark with a heavy match-grade barrel and match trigger. I had also given my daughter and son-in-law a 10/22 for a wedding present. I really did not see the need to personally own an assault rifle. Then it happened. I was sitting in my hotel room in Quincy, Illinois, after covering the Masters Tournament and waiting to go to the airport for the flight home. Turning on television I was astounded to hear the words of a Northeastern governor testifying before a Senate committee about assault rifles. He said, “It is the very nature of the weapon that causes normally law-abiding citizens to turn into criminals.”

There it was! The cause of crime was not environment, nor poverty, nor someone looking for the easiest way to gather money. It was all the fault of this hideous weapon — the assault rifle. This man was saying these magic weapons could somehow change the character of anyone who even touched one. Could this actually be true? Did I dare to take the chance of finding out for myself? If I procured one would everything I have ever been taught be thrown by the wayside? Would the influence of parents, grandparents, teachers, and ministers suddenly be destroyed by a few pounds of metal and wood? Could the nature of this inanimate object really cause a normal law-abiding citizen to turn to crime and violent behavior? Did I dare take the chance to find out? If this governor was right and I put myself in possession of an assault rifle my whole life could change.

It was a dangerous chance to take but I had to know if this governor was right. Surely he could not be either lying or ignorant. After all, he was an elected official. If he was right in his assessment, I could possibly ruin my life forever, perhaps destroy my family and lose any standing I had in my community. I thought about it for quite a while spending several sleepless nights. The decision was made and I would order not one, but two assault rifles. I would take the supreme test with both a .223 and a 7.62x39. It was possible one would not be enough to overcome my character. But if I survived both of them, I would be a stronger and better person, and I would also know that governor was either an ignorant liar or a lying ignoramus.

Strength In Prayer

There was still some hesitation on my part, however I called Ruger and ordered a Mini-14 in .223 and a Mini-30 in 7.62. For the next week I did everything I could to strengthen my character so I would be ready when the UPS truck pulled up at my door. I could almost feel the evil in the air as Brown came down my street. I hesitated. Should I even stand the test? The package sat on my shop table for quite a while as I spent time in prayer and meditation trying to summon up enough courage to actually open the boxes.

I had put it off long enough. Even though I expected evil noxious fumes to come from the package as I opened it I went ahead all the time hearing the words, “It is the very nature of the weapon …” Perhaps I should just seal the box back up and send it back to Ruger. I needed a stiff drink to be able to continue. After downing 16 ounces of Diet Coke, I proceeded. Surprise! Surprise! When I open the box all I found was two beautiful little carbines. Ruger had even assigned the name Ranch Rifle to one of their .223s. There certainly is nothing insidious and criminal about a ranch.

Nothing seemed to have happened to me even though I had opened the box and actually touched these assault rifles. I kept running to the bathroom to look in the mirror and see if I was turning from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde. Nothing happened. The same old face just kept looking back at me. So far, so good. But was this enough of a test? After all, I was still in the security of my home and the sanctity of my family. It was time to actually shoot them even though this act could possibly push me over the edge. Both 5-round magazines were loaded and fired and fired and fired again. Nothing happened except I realized I was having fun. These things were just as much a pleasure to shoot as a levergun. Then it dawned on me. I was in the wrong environment. If these rifles were to work their evil it certainly wouldn’t happen in the midst of thousands of acres of sagebrush. I would have to try one more test.

What if I had both rifles and instead of being in sagebrush I was in the parking lot of a convenience store? And what if my wallet was also empty at the same time? Although trembling at the thought of what could happen I subjected myself to the supreme test. My wallet was virtually empty as I pulled the Bronco into the parking lot of the first 7-11 I saw as I drove back into town. If it was going to happen, it would happen here. I waited. I had the guns, I had the ammunition. My wallet was empty. I waited. I had the opportunity. I could use the money. I waited and I waited.

Nothing happened. I looked in the rearview mirror and my face had not changed. Never once did I get the urge to rob the store. I didn’t feel any different than when I stopped there before church on Sunday morning to pick up a newspaper and a breakfast sausage.

I began to doubt these assault rifles really had any magical power, evil or otherwise. But I was wise enough to know when we let our guard down real trouble can be found. I would have to stay very alert and not trust these weapons at all. Perhaps the evil was just hiding and waiting to overtake me at the proper time. Perhaps I had forgotten something. That’s it! These assault rifles were not high capacity! So I ordered more magazines. I would expect a 10-round magazine for each rifle would be a good test, but I decided to stretch it to the limit and also ordered 20- and 50-round magazines.
Nothing happened. Both carbines were fitted with black Hogue rubber stocks. Again nothing happened. It was finally becoming apparent to me these were not evil assault rifles at all but sporting carbines deserving of a place in my shooting life.

Two things of major importance were discovered those many years ago. First, there is no such thing as evil being present in any gun. A gun is a gun is a gun. Neither color, nor shape of stock, nor length of barrel, nor caliber, nor magazine capacity has anything to do with anything. Secondly, and perhaps of even more importance, government officials will and do lie to us, constantly and unashamedly. They, along with the so-called mainstream media , do it more now than they did 15 years ago. Therein lies the real evil.