Those that were born after the Glock was invented may not understand the struggle. Mad Duo
I Love You 1911, But It’s Time We See Other People
Don Copp – this article originally ran Monday, Oct. 12th, 2015
Recently, a buddy of mine sold his 1911. It’s not like it was a great example of the breed; it was an Auto Ordnance GI he had beaten with a hammer to “accurize,” painted with Krylon, and just generally mistreated. But when I heard this, I had to fight a moment of sorrow for his loss. In my mind, my alter ego—who adores the 1911—gave a little moan of anguish. I could feel the distress building from the stripping of this essential firearm from his armory. There was even a moment when this other part of me instantly said, “If I had known an hour earlier—.”
Why do I have this particular obsession with you, my dear 1911?
You’re really not that awesome. I mean seriously, remember when you wouldn’t feed that 185 grain bullet? It’s not like I didn’t give you a chance. You were even a “modern” example of the breed; you had a feed ramp, a real one, for Christ sake. I took you to the gunsmith who attended that school in Colorado I respect—remember what he told me?
“Sometimes they just don’t work with that bullet.”
What the hell? I mean my Glock feeds shitty ammo all the time. Sure, the case might barely make it out of the ejection port, but that Glock feeds it. But if I gave my 1911 shitty ammo, I’d have to beat it with a hammer to eject the first empty shell. How do I know this? Because I’ve done it.
But I kept you anyway.
There’s a feel about you, 1911, that no other pistol has. The Browning Hi-Power comes close, but the trigger is just kind of crap. That long stupid take-up before the sear catches, and then the long idiotic reset that fools the shooter every time. Then came Glock. When it comes to the 1911, Glocks can’t even compare. I don’t know why I put that word in the same sentence. The feeling that you’re grasping a not-quite-pared-down 2×4, the strange angle, those plastic sights. Not at all like you.
But yet, there’s something there as well.
Unlike you, dearest 1911, Glock will take abuse and smile. You know the abuse I’m talking about; that girlfriend you kept around because, well, she’ll do anything. She’ll drink tequila and smoke Pall Malls and do that pole dance that has all my friends laughing in disbelief, but also with envy. I can literally bury my Glock in the sticky sand of South Carolina and shoot it without much more than making sure the barrel is clear. Remember what happened to you? I bragged about you, custom 1911, I talked about how you would feed an empty case, and then, and then…. you failed me.
And I paid so much for you.
It was not the first time. Honestly, I’ve given you a lot of chances.
There was a time when you were it. And let’s face it, there wasn’t really a good alternative in the semi-auto market of the day. Lugers were pretty, but the toggle slide was complicated, expensive, and, 9mm. Oh, sure, there was the Hi-Power, again in 9mm, but you had to shoot someone So. Many. Times. There was a reason why it had a 13 round magazine.
But that was then.
We’ve come so far with the ammunition we can feed a pistol, the 9mm is really the way to go now. With half the weight—and you’ve always been that side of heavy, baby—twice the number of rounds, a reliability second to none, the Glock and its ilk are really looking good these days. And, I’ll admit it, I have a thing for small pistols. With the G43, I get a perfect package you can’t compete with. Sig tried to give you a running chance with the 938, but those controls are just a tad small for me. And let’s be honest, that shit is dated.
I still love you, really I do. I keep looking at the examples of the breed I own and think I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But the truth is, I have. I’ve gone from a stable of high maintenance, beautifully crafted firearms, to just a couple examples representing the finest of who you are. I no longer depend on you the way I once did. I can’t defend you to my friends any longer and that’s the reason why I’ve come to rely on other, better equipped, accessible pistols. You’re still a thing of beauty, and all my friends get jealous when we go to the range. But, 1911, we just have to move on.
It’s not you. Really. It’s me.
-Don “Doc” Copp
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About the Author: Also known as, “The Dude”, Don COpp is a former law enforcement officer, SWAT/ERT shooter, and department trainer. He has an undiagnosed affinity for archaic and antiquated weapons, which probably stems from watching too much Dead Wood. The, ‘Copp’ part of MilCopp Tactical’s namesake, there he munificently promulgates superlative fighting advice. Translated, that means MilCopp teaches and advocates a constantly evolving, amalgamated method of military and law enforcement tactics. They leaven those TTPs with lessons learned from continued training and ongoing experience on the sharp end; these TTP’s are based on a combination of hard lessons learned and practical real-world results. He also likes bourbon. Allll the bourbon.