My father was not going to get me a gun, come hell or high water. I found a guy in high school that was selling a single shot Remington. It did not even have the grooves for a scope so I took it to a gunsmith and had him add a mount to the top so I could add a scope that was removable to get to the iron sights too. He did a great job. I got caught with my bubbys, marching through the woods by a Radnor Township cop. No single projectiles were aloud in Radnor. My dad had to come down to the police station to get me. He was mad, but the let them hold it for a year, until I was sixteen at which time I was able to retrieve my prize. I was grateful to him for that.
I still have it, it is a bit rusty but still fires and is quite accurate. With a single shot, you learn to make that first shot count. I was the squirrel head shooter. You have to save that good meat. :thmbsp: