From Trash to Treasure: Refurbishing A Family Heirloom 

I’ll never forget the feeling of shooting it. I felt like the world's greatest military sniper. A family friend and I were driving tacks. We were probably only shooting 25 yards, but it felt like a mile to a couple of 12-year-olds with a rusty old bolt-action .22 LR with a missing magazine and busted stock.  

It was the best shooting I’d ever done, and I quickly fell in love with that gun. 

The Purchase 

My dad loved going to auctions; it reminded him of his grandpa, who did the same. Dad was always bringing home something new to us from his visits, and since he wasn’t spending much on the items, Mom was okay with it since it was usually old lanterns, bottles, fishing gear, and that beat-up bolt-action .22.  

I’m honestly not sure what he was thinking while bidding on that rifle. He must have bought it for cheap because it didn’t have the magazine, the front sight was a screw that had been ground and sanded down, and the barrel was lightly rusted. 

He must have envisioned what it could become, vastly different from what was on the table before him. Whatever his reason for purchasing that old gun, I’m glad he did because we had many adventures with it. 

The Abuse Continues 

When Dad brought the rifle home, it didn’t stay in the gun safe very long. It was one of the first guns I learned to shoot, the first one we’d grab to go rabbit hunting, and it would ride around in the back of the truck in case we saw any coyotes within range on the farm. 

If faced the harsh elements of rabbit and squirrel hunting in the winter and clearly wasn’t babied, as evidenced by the stock's dents, scratches, and chips. 

Eventually, two cracks began to form on either side of the stock, and it was placed back in the safe and only grabbed on occasion, such as that day my buddy and I were shooting on the back side of our property.  

After that day of shooting with my buddy, I placed the .22 rifle back in the gun safe and didn’t touch it for several years. High school wrestling and girls took priority over my shooting and hunting.  

I nearly forgot about that rifle. 

The Restoration 

I don’t remember why I was in the gun safe, but one day, I opened it up and saw that rugged rifle sitting next to a pristine Henry lever-action, Ruger 10/22, and our Marlin 30-30 deer hunting rifle, and thought that old bolt-action had seen better days. 

During my junior and senior years of high school, I debated whether to attend college on a wrestling scholarship or get a gunsmithing degree, so I dabbled with fixing firearms. 

My dad had an old single-shot 12-gauge shotgun that only fired half the time, which I fixed by adjusting the hammer’s spring. 

I took apart and deep-cleaned every gun owned by my grandpa and my dad, which gave me a much better understanding of the internal workings of firearms. 

Then, my uncle brought me a pump-action 20-gauge shotgun that randomly wouldn’t fire, and I fixed it for him. 

 Finally, I remembered that old .22 sitting in the safe. I took it out and completely broke it down to give it a good cleaning. I scrubbed off as much of the rust as possible and soaked all the parts in a cleaning solution before putting them back together and lightly oiling the gun. 

However, the stock was still nearly split in two. Luckily, my grandpa had recently retired, and his new hobby was woodworking. Though he had never restored a gun stock, we researched it briefly, and I began gluing and sanding.  

One of my biggest frustrations with the gun was the missing magazine. It was a pain to load each 22 round because I would inevitably drop one through the hole where the magazine was supposed to be secured. 

So, I decided to fill this hole with another piece of wood Pawpa had lying around the shop. I traced the shape I thought I needed and cut it out, only to discover that I would need to sand a lot to get this piece to fit securely. 

Once the glue dried and I had sanded the entire stock, it was time for a fresh stain. Uncertain of what type of wood the stock was, I chose a light walnut stain, which brought out the character of the wood.  

The scratches, dents, and chips are smoothed over but still visible, reminding me of the rifle's adventures, and I didn’t want to completely get rid of them for that reason. I wanted to restore the rifle to a usable condition without losing its unique character, and I believe I did. 

Parting Shots 

I still feel connected to this rifle as I pick it up some 15+ years after restoring it. We don’t shoot it all that often, as it primarily sits in my dad's gun safe. While I can’t imagine this firearm being incredibly valuable on the market, it’s one I will never let go of because of my fond memories with my family and friends, thanks largely to a busted-up ole .22 rifle. 

As much as I love old wooden gunstocks, sometimes you must purchase a new gunstock to restore a rifle to usable condition. At those times, don’t forget about BoydsGunstocks.com!