An hour and a-half with Ken in his west pasture embarrassed me.
It was time to sight in a couple of freshly scoped .22s and shoot the cob webs out of a decrepit Mossberg semi which I don't recall ever firing. The Mossberg -- a cheap pawn shop buy three or four years ago -- ran like a champ.
The name brands sucked. With the Ruger 10-22 it was a magazine problem, and I had no spare with me. The Winchester 74 jammed every third or fourth shot -- stovepipes, failures to feed, failures to eject. I honestly didn't think its innards were that cruddy.
Shame kept me in the shop all evening, nearly full disassembly and scrubba dub dub on the Winchester. Fixed the Ruger mag and, since I was already smelling nicely of Hoppes No. 9, cleaned heck out of it, too. Both are again combat-ready if a few rounds into the Armorer's Log* in the loading room are any guide.
I cleaned the Mossy too, but that was merely a gesture of gratitude.
*I spent my early life looking for a Philosopher's Stone, then finally wised up and settled for an Armorer's Log.