Went loaded for bear and came back nearly empty handed. Saw a few things I liked, a Savage 1907, but it had one magazine, with bent feed lips. And the guy wanted $275 out the door for it, which I felt was steep.

I also saw a ZFK 31/55. it was priced appropriately, which is to say, as much as my first five cars put together.

There were also a handful of doubles- two nice back action antiques, in 450/500 and 470/500, a Chapuis in 450, and an odd one in an odd caliber, I couldn’t read the writing on the hangtag. All of which were too rich for my blood.

So for the one I could afford and the seven or eight I couldn’t, it was a fun show to watch but not so much to buy. I did manage to get the bayonet lug for my Carbine, and I look forward to putting it on. I want a rifle with a bayonet, dammit! I would love the correctly numbered one for my Swiss rifle, but I doubt I’ll ever find that, and a non-correct one would just be no fun.

After the funshow Partner and his brother and I moved along to the Ripple. I was a little disapointed I didn’t get a chance to show Partner the turtle-threatening statue, but we hung with a couple ladies whose company greatly alleviated our disapointment.

The brewpub was as it always is, and it was fine. And the company was as well; Roberta has a liveblog up and will post more, I imagine, when she’s better rested.

On the way home, after pitstop #1 and immediately preceding pitstop #2, I remarked:

“Remember that “Holiday rap” they used to do at Players lounge in the old days?”
Partner:”I have not managed to purge it from my memory”
me:”I saw the video for that, and apparently they’re two dorky lightskinned black kids from the UK”
me:” Of course they’re black kids, what did I expect they’d be Norwegians?”
At this point the voices in my head, having chided me for my stupidity, began beating my funnybone about the head and shoulders with a club, and i laughed until; I ran out of breath and nearly swerved into a semi. I narrowly averted this disaster, which disapointed Partner severely,and now I’m home, I discover I’ve very narrowly averted a massive faux pas; the dorky kids in question are white, or as white as they’re ever going to get. It’s just kind of hard to tell from the video. Maybe I need a better montor; in any event it’s pleasing to see that brothers are not by nature that dorky, and that these ijits are from the netherlands, and not, thankfully, from Norway.