222.366 - 2016 project and carbines

every day in 2016, write a sentence or a paragraph or a poem that appreciates

carbines

a horse-mounted rifle.  a Winchester 94.  a short rifle.  when I was little and some parts of the world were almost too wonderful to stand, someone showed me a carbine, I think it was a Winchester 94, even let me touch it.  whoever it was explained to me that it was a very old weapon, maybe eight times as old as I was, so we couldn't play with it, and certainly not in the house.  he told me that it was a rifle, well, sort of a rifle, and it had been made to be used on horseback, maybe even from a running horse.  oooo!  I asked if he could show me.  he asked if I could already ride.  "of course!" I said.  hell I could do anything if it let me shoot that gun!  he didn't laugh at me, so it may have been my granddaddy, my mother's father, my good grandfather, I called him.  he explained that we didn't have a horse, or a safe place for one to run, and besides that gun was worth more than him and me and the horse together, so we probably shouldn't shoot it at all.  so that's how I grew up with carbines having a very special place in my imagination.  a carbine was worth more than me and my granddaddy and a horse!  it was almost unimaginable.  when I saved enough to buy a .22 long rifle semi-automatic rifle, I asked how much more a carbine would cost.  the man in the gun store told me - I was thirteen or fourteen - and I nearly swooned.  yep, I'd be saving until after high school to get a carbine!  it was still worth more than me and a horse!  (I wasn't sure anything was worth more than my granddaddy by then, and had a very unreal idea of the cost of a horse.)  damn!  I settled for the rifle and loved the rifle anyway.  but the carbine!  if you ever see me with my own carbine, you'll know I think I've made it.  heaven doesn't offer me anything as enticing.