Good buddy Python Pete and I went to the range a few days ago to let loose with a pair of prancing ponies (that is to say, Colts), in both revolver and automatic flavors. The auto was my tried-and-true bright stainless Colt Government Model 1911; the wheelgun was Pete’s stunning 8-inch Colt Python. Both are stunningly beautiful and both are good shooting guns.
I bought the 1911 you see above at a pawn shop brand new back in the mid-1980s for just over $500. Colt no longer offers bright stainless steel guns, so I guess you could say mine is collectible, and when you see bright stainless Colt 1911s come up for sale (which doesn’t happen very often), prices start at $2,000 and go north from there. I guess you could say I made a good investment (except I won’t ever sell it).
A few years ago the front sight popped off my 1911, so I took it to a local gunsmith to have it restaked. That repair lasted all of 50 rounds, and I realized I needed to see an expert. That’s when I hooked up with TJ’s Custom Guns, and I had TJ revamp the Colt. It’s got a Les Baer match barrel, an extended one-piece guide rail, an engine turned chamber (I love that look), high profile/high visibility Millet fixed sights, and TJ’s exclusive high reliability tune. That last little bit means that my Colt 1911 will reliably feed any bullet configuration (semi-wadcutters, hollow points, etc.) and it will work no matter what. Folks, I’ve put tens of thousands of rounds through my 1911 since TJ massaged it, and it’s never had a failure of any kind (no failures to fire, no failures to feed, and no failures to eject…it just goes and goes and goes).
On to the Python. I’ve known good buddy Pete for more than 30 years (we sort of grew up together in the aerospace industry). Pete owns a Colt Python, a gun that is arguably the finest revolver ever made. His is the super-rare 8-inch model, too.
Colt no longer makes the Python, probably because they were too expensive to produce. The fit and finish are superior, and the feel of the thing is just sublime. It’s a .357 Magnum, one of the world’s all time greats, and a cartridge that dominated the police market before 9mm became all the rage. Colt revolvers were hand-fitted and involved lots of custom assembly, and I suppose it just didn’t in with the need for low cost manufacture in a market dominated by black plastic 9mm handguns. No, the Python is from another era characterized by highly polished blue steel and finely figured walnut, an age in which I felt more comfortable. Seeing a Python on the firing line again was a treat, and when Pete asked if I wanted to try the big Colt, he didn’t have to ask twice.
Pete and I had four handguns with us (the two mentioned above, plus a SIG 9mm and my Rock Island Compact 1911). I shot my two 1911s offhand for a while, and then I tried my luck with Pete’s SIG and the Python. It was fun.
I fired 5 shots of “nothing fancy” factory ammo with the Python, and the accuracy was superb. The targets don’t lie, folks.
I’ve owned two Pythons in my life, and both were back in the 1970s. When I was in Korea, I found out I could order one though the Base Exchange at a substantial discount. I couldn’t believe what the nice lady was telling me at the Kunsan AFB Exchange, so I ordered a 6-inch blue steel Python for something like $150 (it sounded too good to be true). Incredibly, it came in the mail to me in Korea. Before I rotated home, I had to submit a form through the Army to get permission to import the revolver back to the US. I did that, and a few weeks later I had a letter signed by the Director of the Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Bureau allowing me to bring my Python home. It went into my duffel bag, I produced the letter when I went through Customs in San Francisco, and that was that. Better times.
You know how it goes with these things. When I was back in Texas shortly after my stint in Korea, I saw a Ruger No. 1 single shot rifle in .30 06 I couldn’t live without, and I traded the Python for it (the guy at the store through in a couple of boxes of .30 06 ammo, too). Then I felt a void in my life because I no longer owned a Python, so I ordered another one (this time a 6-inch nickel-plated model) through the Fort Bliss Gun Club. It was under $200. Then I traded that for something else (I can’t remember what). Ah, the mistakes we make. But maybe they weren’t all mistakes. I’ve sent a lot of lead downrange with the Ruger No. 1 over the last 45 years, it’s one of the most accurate rifles I own, and it has stunning walnut.
Today, Colt Pythons typically sell for something in the $3,000 to $4,000 range. Pete’s would command even more, because it’s the 8-incher, which is a rare item. I’ve asked Pete if he wanted to sell his, but all I got in return was a smile. That’s probably just as well; I couldn’t afford it at today’s prices.
Whoa! More gun stories? You bet, and they’re right here!
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Glenn sent me a few photos from the old days and one that got my attention was a shot of us building a Sportster in the living room of the shack we used to live in. Having a living room to work in was a luxury because prior to renting the shack I was homeless. I had an old Chevy truck with a bench seat that I could stretch out enough to get some sleep and I had a job that let me take a dry bath in the restroom after work. But when Admiralty Marine closed its doors for the evening I was on my own until the next morning. The boss let me know that the situation couldn’t go on forever and that I really needed to find a place to live.
The Sportster’s high dome pistons were ok so a quick hone job and a set of rings finished off the top end. After that you’d think I’d leave the engine alone but I had to have a tin primary cover like the XR750 flat trackers ran.
I guess we’ll find out. The first rough draft of the exhaustnotes.us sticker was a simple design using the popular, exhaust-pipe-streaming-off-a-letter style. This is not a new innovation but then neither is a motorcycle blog. The design needed to work with T-shirts and other future swag projects. We wanted it hand-drawn because Berk and I are old school and we are not wasting your time trying to appear otherwise.
Next we applied a little color to the design, not too much to keep costs down later on in the life of the logo. The chrome reflections and sky blue harken back to the Cycletoons/Cartoons magazines we read as whelps.
After we agreed on the layout the design was tightened up. The “E” fitted to the pipe better and the pipe was fatter and curved down more. We eliminated quotation marks on the motto and straightened out the lettering a bit.
Now the real work began: Inking the outlines and making every bold line pop out. We needed to make the design strong enough to survive shrinking in size or enlarging. A cheerful children’s watercolor set brightened things up without being hard to duplicate on clothing, stuff bags or tramp stamps.
The final design was sent to 
I received Indianapolis a couple of weeks ago, and it’s one of those books I couldn’t put down. It’s really many stories wrapped into one book: The story about the mission to deliver the uranium used in the atomic bomb that ended World War II, the story about the Japanese sub that sank the Indianapolis, the story about the ship’s sinking, the story about the delayed rescue and the shark attacks on the men in the water, the story of the recovery, the story about Captain McVay’s court martial, and finally, the story of his posthumous exoneration. Trust me on this one, folks. Indianapolis is worth your time.
East of Ruidoso, I steered the Husqvarna off of Highway 70 onto Devils Canyon Road and followed the twisting, smoothly-graded dirt until it dead-ended at Highway 220. Back on asphalt I turned right, rode past the airport and pulled into Fort Stanton, New Mexico.
The Officers Quarters played host to Lieutenant John Pershing, who made good later on in life as General Black Jack Pershing. The OQ is divided into two story apartments with thick stone walls between. One section of the wall was damaged showing the rubble-filled core of the finished walls. This type of construction took a lot of manpower to build.
New Mexico’s clean dry air was the ideal spot to treat tuberculosis and in the 1930’s a modern hospital was built to care for easterners suffering from the unsanitary conditions prevailing at that time. The hospital sported New Mexico’s very first elevator along with dental facilities and entertainment. The patients however had to sleep outside in a tent city as it was believed plenty of fresh air and good food was the cure. It worked pretty well too.
It’s ok to ride your motorcycle on the paved roads in the fort. On a back street there are more recent buildings and a nice stone church. I’m not into religion but I love to check out the buildings religious people have constructed. The little church at Fort Stanton is a jewel. It was open the day I was there and the place was clean and neat. For all I know believers may still worship here. You’re not allowed to tramp through the brush but behind the church a couple hundred yards are the remains of a swimming pool German prisoners of war built to stave off boredom and have a place to cool off in the summertime.
Right next door to the Officer’s Quarters is the Nurse’s quarters. I don’t know if the two uses ran concurrently but if they did this little corner of Fort Stanton must have been a happening spot. The Nurse’s quarters were in sad shape except for the main entrance, which had beautiful beams holding up the roof.
Fort Stanton isn’t overrun with tourists. Even though it was part of a war machine, wandering around inside the buildings gives you a sense of peace. Sit on one of the benches in the bright New Mexico sun and you can imagine the soldiers marching the grounds in formation; the gentle coughing of the slowly recovering patients and the laughter and splashing of lucky Germans who were spared death in World War 2.
I had a 1954, small-window Dodge truck back in the 1970’s. It’s funny how a 20 year-old truck seemed so much older when I was younger. My 1990 Suburban is the same age now as the old Dodge was then but the Suburban seems modern to me. I can remember new Suburban’s rolling off the dealer lots that looked exactly like mine. I wasn’t even alive when the ’54 dodge was built.
What the heck, Lee Petty endorsed VX-6, he said he’d rather run without tires than his VX-6. That was good enough for me. Lee Petty does not bullshit. So I dumped the stuff in the nearly dead 8-volt battery and let it sit overnight. The next morning I tried the starter and the engine started like it had a new battery.
