Just call me "Flub Duddley"

sestoppelman

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Years ago as I was growing up in and around the waterfront, both fresh water and salt in Seattle in the .50's and 60's, there was a well known if not loved character that many called Flub Duddley. A sort of affable fellow, who despite his apparent good nature, always managed to step into or on to something not planned. Dad told me once he had him as deckhand on one of his tugs, and eating a hamburger one night for dinner, he proceeded to toss the unfinished remains out the window over the side, unfortunately the window was still up! He was the kind of guy who would step on a rake and smack himself in his bulbous red nose with the handle.
Or walk off a short pier with a load of tools! Just that kind of guy.

So today I felt just like Flub Duddley.

I had gone out to my FFL guy to retrieve a new to me Winchester model 94 Legendary Frontiersmen rifle, in .38-55 Winchester. Yeah, kind of on a lever binge lately.
So my guy had already inspected it, pronounced it good to go but I wanted to have a glance before doing the form so proceeded to open 'er up.
Already being a little hurried and stressed with plumbing trouble at home, no not that kind, I mean a broken water main! Couple that with getting the stink eye from the old woman for making a second trip to the FFL this week, lets just say I was feeling a bit pressed for time.

I had to remove the artwork slip cover off of the two piece stryofoam box that encased the lovely rifle and it was a tight fit as my guy hadn't got the pieces matched up correctly when he put it back together. So I am holding the foam box between my feet as I struggle to get the thrice blasted, ever bloody slip cover up and over the end when there is a horrendous crashing sound, stuff flying about, knocked over knick knacks, (not mine!), and there on the cement floor is my new pride and joy rifle!
Thinking the foam box was two equal parts as some are I hadn't realized till too late it was one of those with the very flimsy thin lid over the lower portion and the lid bent and flew off the lower half and the rifle fell right with it. I just looked at my guy, shook my head and paused to let the impact of what must surely be a broken stock, severe blue damage or bent barrel, in short I nearly s**t myself!!
Gathering my wits which are by now
pix523446703  LF.jpg
nearly at end, I reach out and pick the rifle off the floor and give it a cursory inspection and don't see anything obvious so just moved on. Paid my guy his fees and went home. Upon closer inspection at home, the only damage I can find is an unfortunate little chip at the toe of the stock where the curved butt plate had hit the floor, tiny little chip. I can now only look at that chip and say well, "Flub Duddley" lives on inside me!! (y)
 

Randy F

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I’m not sure how I missed this post but oh my gosh, I’m still laughing! That is SO something I would do. Well put, I could almost see it happen.
I’m so glad there was no major damage. That’s a beautiful gun, congrats!
 
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Years ago as I was growing up in and around the waterfront, both fresh water and salt in Seattle in the .50's and 60's, there was a well known if not loved character that many called Flub Duddley. A sort of affable fellow, who despite his apparent good nature, always managed to step into or on to something not planned. Dad told me once he had him as deckhand on one of his tugs, and eating a hamburger one night for dinner, he proceeded to toss the unfinished remains out the window over the side, unfortunately the window was still up! He was the kind of guy who would step on a rake and smack himself in his bulbous red nose with the handle.
Or walk off a short pier with a load of tools! Just that kind of guy.

So today I felt just like Flub Duddley.

I had gone out to my FFL guy to retrieve a new to me Winchester model 94 Legendary Frontiersmen rifle, in .38-55 Winchester. Yeah, kind of on a lever binge lately.
So my guy had already inspected it, pronounced it good to go but I wanted to have a glance before doing the form so proceeded to open 'er up.
Already being a little hurried and stressed with plumbing trouble at home, no not that kind, I mean a broken water main! Couple that with getting the stink eye from the old woman for making a second trip to the FFL this week, lets just say I was feeling a bit pressed for time.

I had to remove the artwork slip cover off of the two piece stryofoam box that encased the lovely rifle and it was a tight fit as my guy hadn't got the pieces matched up correctly when he put it back together. So I am holding the foam box between my feet as I struggle to get the thrice blasted, ever bloody slip cover up and over the end when there is a horrendous crashing sound, stuff flying about, knocked over knick knacks, (not mine!), and there on the cement floor is my new pride and joy rifle!
Thinking the foam box was two equal parts as some are I hadn't realized till too late it was one of those with the very flimsy thin lid over the lower portion and the lid bent and flew off the lower half and the rifle fell right with it. I just looked at my guy, shook my head and paused to let the impact of what must surely be a broken stock, severe blue damage or bent barrel, in short I nearly s**t myself!!
Gathering my wits which are by now View attachment 369180nearly at end, I reach out and pick the rifle off the floor and give it a cursory inspection and don't see anything obvious so just moved on. Paid my guy his fees and went home. Upon closer inspection at home, the only damage I can find is an unfortunate little chip at the toe of the stock where the curved butt plate had hit the floor, tiny little chip. I can now only look at that chip and say well, "Flub Duddley" lives on inside me!! (y)
@sestoppelman
Old mate Murphy's law strikes again. Good to see I'm not the only clutz/ flub duddley.
Bob
 
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