Austrian for “Moped”

I’ve never owned a Glock. The ergonomics are iffy, the trigger feels like a twig straining to its breaking point, and then there’s the fanboy factor. “Ermagherd, how can you not like the GLOCK? It’s like the most revolutionary thing ever and I once heard that a guy fed one to a shark that lived in a volcano on the Jovian moon of Io and then it still fired 6.52 million rounds of overpressure ammo because he was like a commando and went on to topple Dr. Robotnik’s Army of Socialist Androids and sweet Ron Paul UFO Jesus how can you not own a gun that’s so dreamy the manufacturer has to write their name in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS?”

Yeesh. I must be missing something, right? Maybe. I needed a smallish pistol to fit in the pocket of my day pack, and the 26 met my requirements better than pretty much anything else. I don’t shoot J-Frame revolvers well, and most of the other small 9mm pistols have one drawback or another for me. So, a model 26 crossed the bow at a good price, and here we are.

This one’s from October of 1999. Back then, the Assault Weapons Ban was still in effect, pagers were the pinnacle of mobile technology, and we still had to rewind our movies when we were done. The less said about that time, the better.

So, yeah. There’s not much to say. It’s a Glock. Now I have an Australian gun without a safety that can get through metal detectors. Yay.

You know, it doesn’t shoot half bad. So there’s that.

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