The question I ask myself whenever I remember my Remington 760. Why did I sell it. It was a private purchase back about 1976 that brought her into my life. We walked many miles together in Washington State, Idaho and Montana. She dropped deer, elk (once two with crossing shots) and was deadly accurate.
I shall find another but it must be an older model, wood smooth with years of careful handling, the blued metal reflective of its age. I like old. Old is indicative of craftsmanship. Old will get the job done. Old has class.
She's out there, waiting for me. I just know it.