During the summer of 1974, the revolver in my backpack was never very far from my grasp. That was the “Year of Ted,” when prolific serial killer Ted Bundy was murdering women in the Seattle area. Months later, human remains of his victims were discovered at two locations in my coverage area.

It was the Model 19 that got me into handloading, first with an old Lee Loader, from which I graduated to a single-stage RCBS press. There would be Saturday afternoons when I would “mass produce” .38 Special target loads with 158-grain semi-wadcutters loaded over 3.5 grains of HP-38. They were wonderfully accurate.

Which brings us around to how a “legend” is born, or at least how a story can take on a life of its own. Late one very gray winter afternoon while stopped on a dirt road south of town with my bride and our first son, a couple of local twerps whom she knew from the local school drove up. I had just set a tin can on a log, paced back about 15 yards and, firing single action, sent the can sailing (it surprised even me).