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I like both, and I admit to liking the Mini-14 a bit more. Having said that, yes, the AR-15 is going to be more accurate, and the buffer assembly means less felt recoil. The major advantage to a wood stocked Mini-14 is that the people who scream about "evil black guns" are often clueless and don't give a Mini a second glance.

Sawmill Mary and I broke out of the cabin yesterday and took a ride south to Salem Missouri basically to have lunch out and to watch for hawks and eagles. We were nearly there when I got a text from good shooting partner Jackson Rose. He had spotted an old Colt at a gunshop close to him. He sent pictures and major details. We had lunch as planned and headed to the gunshop with the old Colt. It would add some 90 miles to our drive. We made it to the small shop and asked about the old Colt. They brought it out from the office area. It came with Colt factory letter and a homespun holster. Long story long, we bought it without dragging our feet too long. The weather was changing for the worse We turned onto I70 into snow flurries that kept getting harder as we headed west. Anyway, here is what we brought home. Made in 1881 Frontier Six Shooter 44-40. Nickel plated. It originally had a 7-1/2" barrel. Now 5-1/4". The sight expertly installed. All numbers match except loading gate. The the hammer is late 1st generation or early second. The base pin is not correct for black powder frame. Here is the great news. All the inside parts appear as new. It locks up solid as a vault and is timed well. The nickel plate is excellent from front of trigger guard forward. Flakey and worn from trigger guard back. Basically, everything inside the holster is in great shape. Everything outside the holster is worn to worn away. Grips are some homemade handiwork. I'll probably make a video and include more details. Between the weather and no black powder 44WCF loaded, it may be a bit. Thanks to Jackson Rose for birddowging it for me.

I saw two today, that I just must share. They made me out loud. Feel free to post some you come across,

Shot my first 1st place Outlaw match. WooHoo kR

...about the Oscars? I can’t get away from it in the news. Seems like the world is supposed to hang on it. I love a good movie, but don’t give a rip about what the Hollywood intelligista think of one another.

This thread got me thinking so I had to go check....my Rugers have only two clicks. I think that stands for ‘don’t care.’ If I could actually hear those clicks during a stage I would know I was shooting to slowly.

The 4th click costs you an extra $1,000.

He doesn't yet realize that that dog may consider him a chew toy.....or a snack.

All I have to say is...... Cat Brules

Nope. Haven't for decades. Just as I don't really pay any attention to reviews by professionals. Other than, maybe to find out if they panned a movie I was thinking about seeing. If they gave it a bad review it's likely a good movies. If they laud it to the skies it is likely garbage.

You can't have no idea how little I care......

My oldest granddaughter outgrew it and the youngest is too independent to ride in it so my daughter-in-law was going to throw it away. I took it home and stripped the baby stuff off of it and here it is. It's still a work in progress...

I can think that more than once I have had a major blunder or misfortune and come back in a later stage with a clean shoot and really good time, maybe with all the bonus points. What gets me is losing confidence in my guns.

I wouldn’t think of it as a bad example. I see it as trolling for Darwin candidates.

Use the first stage for the train wreck! Then I don't have to worry about having one for the rest of the day.

Rye, You said the Mini 14 was yours before. Think back on why you bought it in the first place and then why you sold it. If the reason for buying it outweighs the reason for selling it, then go for the Mini again. AR's are pretty much a dime a dozen nowadays, but there is only one Mini 14 that was yours before and with a custom stock that you personalized it with. Wyatt

That's actually pretty good pizza!

I've had both. Go AR. OLG

Tough decision. I have some of each and the AR-15 platform is more customizable. Usually, the AR-15 is more accurate and the aftermarket parts, magazines, stocks, are more available and less expensive. The AR-15 is lighter than the Mini-14 until you start hanging stuff off of it. The AR-15 is also easier to hang stuff off of. However, I like the look of the Mini-14. I think you need to work out a package deal and get both.

Dark or milk chocolate? You can’t go wrong with either. Purely personal taste.

Education is important, but being a cowboy is importanter.

So we have gone from this: Burned area Approximately 18,636,079 hectares (46,050,750 acres)[1] Buildings destroyed 6,500+ Fatalities 34 To this: This bridge is about 30min down the road from my place and the Ferry 5 min down the road is closed due to the flood waters. Fires two weeks ago and Flood today. A land of drought and flooding rains indeed.

I wasn't a big fan of the Wild wild West series (although I did watch it) but he played a part of Pasquinel, a fur trapper, in the mini series Centennial (1978) that was simply stellar.

The Three-click guns spell U-Ber-Ti

Grit. It's 217 on Dish network. Dumb@$$ bad guys haven't figured out after all the decades not to take on The Duke. Then you got Ben Johnson! JHC

Sugar Glider. Cute... but dagnabbit, illegal in california. Knew a fella who was moving to Fresno from Texas. Got stopped at the ag inspection station at the border; they saw his sugar glider and declared "That animal is illegal in california! We're gonna CONFISCATE it and DESTROY it!" Like Hell...! Fella called his girlfriend (who was going to follow him to Fresno at a later date); she drove all the way from Texas to rescue the li'l critter and take him home.

A Trip To the Range This was a party weekend. I guess it was a good party, all in all. A mite sedate by our standards, but we’d all been on our best behavior – after all, this was a very rare Joint Party with Bib ‘n’ Tucker Sorority. As sororities go, these young ladies were known to be at the apex of fashion and propriety. And as such, not terribly likely to be in alignment with our wild and woolly bunch. So, with this in mind, the men of Kappa Phi were indeed on our best behavior. Even me, and even Hank. But then, we were always on our best behavior, don’tcha know! You see, Hank and I had plans. Since this was a Saturday evening “Joint” party, neither of us had a date to drive home after the party – which meant that we had no reason to limit our libationous intake. Toward that end, we took it upon ourselves to make a significant dent in the most recent keg liberated from the Burgermeister Brewery. It would help us sleep, don’tcha know. And we were gonna need a good night’s sound sleep. Short, but sound. Short, because after the party, we’d need time to get our stuff together for the next morning. Sunday. As mentioned, we had a plan – up early, then off to the range. The shooting range at Sharp Park, in Pacifica. The range would open at 0800; we planned to be there when the gates opened. Now, Hank and I enjoyed shooting. We had both been competitive shooters earlier in our young lives. In high school, I had been the top shooter on my Army Jr ROTC battalion’s rifle team. Hank’s dad and brother were members of the prestigious Kingsburg Gun Club, where Hank had also won awards for marksmanship and trap shooting. Well, being the proper types they were, the girls had all gone home by 10:30 or so. The the party finally wound down well after midnight. Hank and I assembled our equipment and made ready, and were off to our respective beds by three a. m. Up at oh six thirty, we packed the car, grabbed a quick something and coffee for breakfast, and were on our way by oh seven fifteen. Typical of San Francisco in late spring, it was a cool, foggy, and drippy morning. Real foggy. VERY foggy. But no matter; we were used to it and knew where we were going. The route was to head west on Fell Street, then transition to John F Kennedy Drive, make our way through Golden Gate Park, then south on the Great Highway to Highway 1, and finally to and through Pacifica. Less than 20 miles, it was normally about a half-hour drive. But with the fog, we allowed ourselves more than double that. Oh, little did we know! So, down Fell Street. Not another vehicle in sight. Just us in Hank’s compact ’62 Mercury Meteor, feeling like we were encapsulated in a cloudy bubble. And then, something odd. When we reached the transition to JFK drive, we were in Lane #1, the leftmost of three lanes headed into the park. Which was fortunate, as the other two lanes were closed, for some reason. Each of those lanes had a chain draped across it from steel posts in sockets in the roadway. Oh well – OUR lane was open, so we continued onto JFK and into the park. Not another soul in sight. It was downright eerie, like a scene from a science fiction movie. Soon we arrived at the stop sign at 8th street. Dutifully, Hank stopped. And we discovered life! There, perched atop a pair of horses, were two of San Francisco’s Finest. Two mounted officers. Looking bored and gloomy. We looked at them. They looked back at us. And then we proceeded. We’d rolled about forty yards, when suddenly Hank, looking in his outside mirror, proclaimed “Huh! You ain’t gonna believe this!” Huh? What? “We’re being pulled over!” What the…! I looked over my shoulder, and sure ‘nuff, along came one of the officers, riding after us hell-bent-for leather. His horse’s rubber shod hooves were fairly silent; his whistle was not: Fweeet! Tweeeet! TWEEEET…!! “HALT! Halt… HALT!!” Fwreeeeet….! Wotinell?? So, being the good citizens we were, we pulled over. A few seconds later, Mr Do-Right pulled up and did a quick rolling dismount. Holding his horses reins, he took a couple of steps toward Hank’s open window, glared at us, then demanded “Just WHAT in HELL do you THINK you’re DOING??” Stunned, we looked back at him, jaws slack, totally confused. His partner rode up then, and Officer Do-Right again commanded that we explain ourselves. Hank and I exchanged glances, then he looked at the Officer and simply explained “Why, Officer, we’re just driving through the park this morning.” “What?? And where the hell do you think you’re going?” he snarled. And I must say, I was glad that he was on Hank’s side of the car. With a confused expression, Hank continued, “Well, Officer, we’re just driving through the park on our way to the Great Highway. Then we’re gonna get on the Great Highway and drive down to Pacifica. We’re goin’ to the shootin’ range at Sharp Park, and we’re - ” “ARE YOU CRAZY!?” Officer Do-Right inquired. Hank looked at me. I looked back at Hank. Then he turned to the officer, and said “Uh… I don’t think so, Officer.” “Why the HELL are you driving through Golden Gate Park??” the officer continued his demand. “Well… uh… ‘cuz this is the way to the Great Highway, and that’s the way to Pacifica and to Sharp Park and - ” “DON’T YOU TWO KNOW THE PARK IS CLOSED ON SUNDAY?!?” With his tone and volume, I recall briefly wondering if the policeman might perhaps have a hearing impairment. Hank looked at me. I looked back at Hank. Then he turned back to the officer, and said “Uh… it is??” By now either calmed down a mite or becoming hoarse from his yelling at us, in a more normal voice the policeman pointed out that indeed, Golden Gate Park’s roads ARE closed on Sunday – they’re reserved for pedestrians, cyclists, and skaters. “Gosh, Officer, we didn’t know that. Honest! If we had, we would’ve taken Stanyan and Geary!” Recovering some of his grumpiness, with a bit of a condescending sneer laced with an air of satisfaction, he reached for his ticket book and snarled “What, you didn’t see the signs? And you didn’t notice the barricades when you drove around them??” Hank and I exchanged looks again, then Hank said simply “Nope. Well… there are three lanes coming into the park – we did notice that two of ‘em were closed, but the one we were in was open and there wasn’t no sign. Honest – if there had been, we wouldn’t be here!” “Yeah, well, I don’t believe ya. I think you just drove around the barricade and now I’m a-gonna write you a ticket.” Our hearts sank. A simple, fun morning was about to become very expensive. And then, suddenly, Officer Do-Right’s partner said “Hey, Ned… You might wanna check this out,” as he gazed back in the direction we’d come from. There, following our route, came five more vehicles. “You two wait right here! And hang on to Ol’ Dobbin!” Do-Right ordered, handing Hank his reins then joining his partner as they went off to interview the other drivers. Finally, wearing exasperated expressions, they directed those drivers to turn around and head back out of the park the way they’d come. Do-Right strode back to us. “Well,” he grumped, “I reckon you were tellin’ the truth. Those other folk said the same thing, so we’re gonna let ya go, ‘cuz we can’t write you a ticket without writing everyone else a ticket and I don’t wanna spend my Sunday mornin’ writing all them tickets. But you still gotta turn around and go back the way you came in and HEY! Are those GUNS??” he exclaimed, pointing to the rifle cases in the back seat. “Uh… yessir.” “Why the HELL are they on your back seat??” he demanded. “Well… like we said – we were goin’ to the shooting range, and -” Hank began to explain. “So why are they on the back seat and not in the TRUNK?” “Uh… there ain't no room. The trunk’s full.” "Full? Full of what?" "Uh... the rest of the guns." His jaw dropped, then he asked “Do you have any handguns with you?” “Yessir – they’re in the trunk!” With that, Officer Do-Right shook his head and re-claimed Dobbin’s reins from Hank. “Okay. Git outta here. Go back the way you came!” he said with more exasperation. “Yessir!” said Hank, and proceeded to negotiate a U-turn. We’d driven about twenty-five yards or so, reversed along our original route, when suddenly – Fweeet! Tweeeet! TWEEEET…!! “Damn. We’re being pulled over ag’in!” This time, though, it was Do-Right’s partner. “Hey, Fellas? Do us a favor, would ya? Evidently the chain across the Number 1 lane is down. Would you be kind enough to put it back up when you exit?” “Why, we’d be happy to!” “Oh good – thanks, Fellas!” he ended with a smile. Unfortunately, our adventure was not yet over. When we exited the park, indeed we did see that the chain for Lane 1 was down, lying across the road, nearly invisible in the fog if you weren’t looking for it. So Hank pulled to the curb, and he and I got out to put the chain back up. But couldn’t. It had broken and was too short – and if there’s one thing I had learned long before, it’s purty darned difficult to stretch a chain. I studied the arrangement and pondered the issue for a moment. Then I had a brainstorm! Or at least a bit of a mental breeze… “Hey, Hank! I got an idea! Look! Both other lanes have chains across ‘em, right…?” “Yeah, they do” Hank agreed. “So one of ‘em has a chain with a sign on it, and the other one has a sawhorse AND a chain. It don’t need a chain AND a sawhorse – so how ‘bout I take that sawhorse and put it here in Lane 1? That oughtta work!” “It sure oughtta!” Hank concurred. Without further ado, I collected the sawhorse from Lane 3, and moved it to Lane one. Our good deed done! Feeling good about surviving our earlier brush with the law and our solution to the problem of the broken chain, we again saddled up to head off to Pacifica and Sharp Park by an alternate route. Uh… Hello – what’s this? And that's when we discovered why Lane 3 had a chain and a sawhorse. And why Lane 2 had a small metal sign hanging from its chain. You see – Lane 3 did not have a sign. But it did have a sawhorse. And evidently, that sawhorse was there because there was no sign dangling from it. And early on a foggy morning, a plain ol’ chain was not so visible. We silently watched as, sounding like an asthmatic lawn mower, a new VW Microbus came whipping along Fell Street, in Lane 3, at the foggy-day breakneck speed of about 25 to 30 miles per hour. We saw the sleepy driver, a hippie fella who was munching a cinnamon bun as he rolled along. And it seems that he too was blissfully unaware of Golden Gate Park’s closure to motor vehicles on Sundays. Not seeing the chain, he proceeded with his attempt to drive directly through Golden Gate Park. He did not slow one bit before his Microbus encountered said chain. With a sound like striking a 55 gallon drum full of marbles with a baseball bat, the VW came to a very impressive and immediate halt. The expression on the hapless driver’s face was initially blank, then melted into a wonderful mixture of shock, sudden awaking, and utter astonishment as his rear wheels came off the ground, and then bounced back to Earth. As the clutch was still engaged, when the spinning rear tires encountered the pavement, they chirped and killed the engine. We looked on, amazed, and marveled at the new 8-inch deep crease across the front of the still-bouncing ‘bus. Thankfully it had caught the chain below the windshield; had it been a foot or so higher and if the now dumbfounded driver had not been belted in, he would have had a far worse morning. As it was, he gazed about, confused. One second, he was merrily whizzing along on a foggy morning, singing along with the radio, and now he was immobile, with his breakfast squished all over the inside of his windscreen. “Uh… Hank?” “Yeah Man! Let’s go home and take naps. We can go shooting this afternoon!”

I also believe that Billy Long was the one that grabbed DJT on his way out and had him sign his tie! I would rather see an elected official have a little fun with the President as opposed to the sour pucker face that was behind his left shoulder during his address!

Who can remember the last stage? Imis

My AR is way more accurate than a mini 14. I sold my mini 14 and bought an AR. I never looked back.

Your going to have to be careful though ... when you walk through the parking lot. You could get stuck to someone's pickup truck and not be found until the match was over!!

Growing up in the 1960's I used to love watching the oscars. You didn't see the actors on entertainment tonight and other shows constantly as you do today. It was rare to see them other then in the movies or an occasional appearance on Johnny Carson. There was more of a mystery about them. It was mostly fun with an occasional political comment made. Now you see them everywhere and you hear about their political views ad nauseam. Not fun anymore.

I like the look and balance of the Mini 14. I have one. But the AR is a more versatile design and generally more accurate at ranges over 100 yds. If I culd oly get one, it would be the AR platform.

If I was any of those cat washers, I would sleep with one eye open from now on.

It stands for RU- GER

I agree, we don't need spelling and history comments that have nothing to do with the OP's questions!

Introducing the Pirate Model .... the ARrrrrrh15 .... please tip the waiters

Heck, I got a good chuckle out of it! Unlike "Gentle Ben," this was expected to be viewed as absurd and whimsical. Kinda like the old John West Salmon commercial.

I don't watch the presentations but I almost always find a copy of who won what. Gives me a good reference of crap I DON'T want to watch.

Now, ain'tcha gonna feel bad when...?

They had a right to be. They took down Yamamoto, our top aces, Bong and McGuire flew them, along with plenty of others, and it took out more Japanese aircraft than any other allied fighter. "Der Gabelschwanz Teufel." There is some question as to whether they actually called it that, but I like the thought of it, personally.

No wonder some new shooters feel put off by certain cowboys. smh. To answer your question NO. The only difference is going to be the 7th cav markings on yours vs the others. If you get another cimarron that's not the 7th cav model the fit, finish, and function should be the same providing you get one that has the same case hardened old model frame.

As others have stated..... it should. DAVE: the mag tube spring can be trimmed to approx 3-4" longer than the mag tube. This will still give you sufficient mag tube spring strength. PLUS, you can also replace the mag tube follower with a SS follower and trim the nose tip to where it barely kisses the front of the carrier or even a kiss away from touching it. This shorter follower can sometimes add up to 1/8", which could be significant enough to help you. There are some other things you might want to know. Call me. 865 / 696-1996 ..........Widder

Howdy! Thank you to everyone that came out to Niles, Ohio today to shoot a round with the Lake Park Raiders! A good time was had by all! Our first place winner was Hooligan Howes! This gunfighter’s pretty tough to beat! Congratulations, Hooligan! Our second place winner was N.A.Custer, another gunfighter who’s tough to beat! Congratulations to N.A.Custer! Congratulations to all our winners and contestants! Thank you for making our new shooters welcome and thank you for the offers of help, equipment use, and ammo donations. Cowboys are the best! Along with Joe Capp, we were joined by cowgirl shooter Deadeye Diane. I think she found a new pastime! Big thanks to Bojak and Heartless Hanna for bringing in the big cooker filled with smoked sausage and sauerkraut! It was excellent! Shenango Joe had a birthday; he is now in the El Patron class! Congratulations, Joe! Our next match is over 2 weeks away on Thursday February 27, 2020. It’s our Thursday Work Shirker Open Class CAS Match! Five more fun-filled stages of Old West wackiness! I hope to see you there! All the best, Slow Mo Dern (and I approve his here synopsis!) Visit us at: http://shenangoriverrats.wixsite.com/sass

It isn't even jealousy, or envy, really. There is no truly negative emotion attached. Admiration, most definitely, adding a touch of irony to the usage. The inability to play a specific piece was met with some frustration, but even then, it was a focus on my lack of ability and a desire to improve. Besides, neither "I'm jealous of him" or "'I'm envious of him" rolls off the tongue so easily, nor convey the depth of my supposed angst!

I have more authority in MY house than you realize. She wants the kitchen floor mopped. Big deal. I get to decide when to mop it..... this morning or this afternoon..... ..........Widder

Well lookie what showed up today... Weird part is they smell just like real money.

I have no freakin’ idea what any of this is about...