In 1955 I was a 15 year old who knew just about everything. I had been devouring all the hunting/fishing and firearms magazines and books I could find since age 12, and had joined our local shooting club. All I needed was a suitable pistol, then I would enter their matches and take home all the trophies. So, my dad took me on a shopping trip to Cedar Rapids. There, in a down town sports shop, I found my first true love. A used Colt Match Target Woodsman .22 pistol. I just knew it was a winner. Best yet, I had saved enough money to get it and some ammo too. Dad had to sign, but the gun was mine. I couldn't wait to try it out. Dad took me to the country to try out the gun. The gun worked well, never mind I couldn't hit much. Once I was in competition, I would settle down and shoot bulls eyes all day. To make a long story short, it was quite awhile before I won any matches. I did get so I could hit squirrels, rabbits, snakes and other critters when I wanted. That old Colt kindled a life long love affair with handguns. I have owned maybe hundreds in my lifetime and eventually became a passable marksman, even on Ariel targets, and I owe it all to that old Colt.