By request ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Redheads and the Matched Pair of 1890's The oil patch along the SoCal coast - and any other oil lease areas - turned out some very muscular and confident young men. Many of them dealt with heavy weights in a dangerous, fast moving and slippery area. Toss in some body surfing and ocean swimming along with a little skindiving, sandlot style hardball at the college's well groomed diamond and it all added up over time, More than a few beauteous young ladies were surprised to see some of these presumed to be poor and on the wrong side of the tracks guys strip down at the beach. Surprised because they didn't realize they'd be so sexually attracted to them. Now and then, they'd see them around town in an older, well cared for and well tuned car wearing either dirty oilfield Levi's & T-shirt or their newer and cleaner T-shirt. Most times with their similarly dressed pal's. Times like that there was no particular interest from the neatly turned out girls. Sometimes an oil field guy would get lucky and get a date from one of these mostly unobtainable young ladies and who knows . . . maybe it was the young ladies who were the lucky ones. Not long after, they’d go too far and some of the girls ended up gaining weight rapidly for a few months. At times, one of the townie’s would ask why and usually the girl involved in that conversation answered that it was too many pizza's and beer and leave as soon as it was polite. Yeah, pregnant or not, they were embarrassed and who the hell could blame them. Some of the girls were gutsy and just told them that she was pregnant and they could kiss her ass. Some of the townie’s figured that would be a great place to do some ass-kissing and they’d be pleased to do so. That was when the fights started and more than a few townie’s got their butts kicked by the slender appearing and more than tough and strong oil field guys. Sadly, there were times when the middle manager exec type father's would drag down the old hunting rifle or shotgun and go after the daughters boy friend. Things happened sometimes. Bad thing's. Some father's died, some young men died, but most times each realized the futility of their position and went home after more than a few bitter words and recriminations. Here it is, fifty years later and the hurt and hate from one family to the other is still there. The daughter did what pregnant, unmarried girl's have always done. They went to school out of state if they could, but whether they went to school or not, they ended up living with an aunt & uncle until the dust settled. Not long after their return you'd see them pushing a baby carriage or the like and once in a while there would be a happy ending with a marriage and a child new to the world. Other times the new mom would end up single for a lot of reasons. The Vietnamese war was heating up, the drug and hippie era was in full bloom, many young men were running off to Canada and it was easy for a chicken-shit guy to disappear no matter the reason. The fatherless child would grow up in the girls family home and once locals realized what had happened, the general thought was the child was better off in a stable home with a mom and two loving grandparents. It was interesting to see - in this case - the girl's red haired child running with the red haired child of an oil field guy and a blonde girl new to the town and the state as well. They were best friends and many times both families let it go and it was just another family skeleton in the big, muchly used closet that most families have. Long hidden secrets could come to light years and generation’s later. Some of them exactly what the town thought, but didn’t truly know and some that were a total surprise. Strangest part about this story is the father of the girl, a Mr. Armstrong, the local bank president tried to shoot an oilfield guy named Michael, got a round off and the classic old Winchester pump 22 LR ended up with its octagonal barrel bent about 90 degrees, a crushed receiver and a severely damaged walnut stock that was still beautifully figured, but now useless. Out on the C.C.M.O. lease, well 19A, the oil lease just east of La Conchita near the Ventura-Santa Barbara county line is where Mr. Armstrong, armed with the old Winchester 22, caught up with the perceived miscreant. The old man didn't expect the big compressor at the plant down the hill to blow the relief valve and the loud noise scared him, but it was a commonly experienced noise in the oil fields. Michael took the 22 rifle away from him, stuck the barrel into a solid as a rock 4" guard pipe on the rig steps and bent hell out of it. Then he crushed the receiver & stock in the big Wilton vise on the back of the electricians truck and handed it gently back to the old man. That was the end of the Armstrong family's matched pair of octagonal barrel Winchester's. The 22 caliber 1890 WRF was ok, but the 22 LR was pretty much a goner. The two rifles came down off their mantlepiece display and were stored away. As far as I know the 22 WRF was never fired again and ended up lying at the bottom of the dresser drawer collecting a bit of surface rust in the humid and sometimes salty air of the Ventura, California coast. Michael married the daughter and came to be accepted as a loved member of the Armstrong family. Mr. Armstrong, a pretty lovable old guy his own self outlived Gail’s mom by quite a few years. He wasn’t what you’d call a character, but he did have a strange sense of humor. I don’t know how old he was when he attended Michael’s retirement party. Michael, now 62 was completely stunned when he opened the long and slender package. Inside were the two 1890's . . . the almost perfect 22 WRF showing a bit of patina and the almost totally destroyed 22 LR. The 22 LR had a beautifully finished walnut stock, a straight and almost new barrel installed, but the old man couldn’t find a new or even an old receiver to complete the repairs. Just as well I suspect, it was almost to the point where it was the same as the old story about Abraham Lincoln’s axe. I’m pretty sure you know that story, but that’s about all I’m going to say about Michael and Gail other than to mention I’m a redhead, still have the 1890's, my family still works in the oil fields and I grew up in Ventura, California..... An interesting area of old Ventura. An author photo for a book written around the three bracelets in the photo. Done as a couple since a lot of Gail is in the book and the bracelets are key players over 50 years and two continents. The WRF and a 9422M Translucent can be very clear at times.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Probably needs some more editing, but it’s been a long and strange day. And I’m about two hours past bedtime. Gotta be up at 0500 tomorrow . . . not a problem, the three Doxies and one wannabee Chihuahua know how to tell time . . . to the minute most times.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LR = 22 caliber Long Rifle rimfire round. WRF = Winchester Rim Fire, a more powerful round than the common 22 LR and a bit of a Magnum rimfire round from back in the day. (Also known as the Remington Special in Remingtons competing rifles.) The 22 LR I’m sure most of you know about. The WRF, a bit uncommon for most, but the specs are: 22 LR - shoots a 40 grain solid nose bullet and the brass case is about the same diameter as the bullet. 22 WRF - shoots a 45 grain solid nose bullet and the brass case is a larger diameter than the bullet as well as being longer than the 22 LR case. This done to prevent using the more powerful round in a 22 LR rifle. And . . . you don’t want to use a 22 LR in the WRF rifle since the case will rupture now and then along with the chamber will be ruined over time. Bullet speeds - in FPS (Feet Per Second) - which are an important part of caliber choice are: 22 LR = 1100 FPS 22 WRF = 1600 FPS 22 Magnum - 2000 FPS A bit off topic? Maybe. Interesting part about knowing hot rodders is that they like machines. Whether it’s a good looking Deuce three window, quality tools or a well designed rifle that’s a classic tool in its own right. Surprising sometimes to see a hot rod at the rifle range . . . but not too surprising.... ---<>---
Very cool. If there is one thing I like as much as hotrods it is guns. I have always been a sucker for the octagonal barrels. I have an old winchester model 06 22 Long or Short.
The Jalopy Journal
