Trad Gang

Dear Mr. Neaves,

We are all looking for that Magic Bow. It is out there, traveling its circles as we travel ours. I ran into it one year at ATAR. It shot dead center at the target butts, and the next arrow shot a half inch away, and the next an inch. The fellow selling it was manning a booth for a vendor, and this was his personal bow which he was trying to sell. I didn't quite wed to the finger grooves on the Centaur, but it shot well enough to ask the price. A lot of money. I reluctantly left it there, but the Centaur stuck in my mind.

I bought one in the TG classifieds, not a double carbon as the first was, but in my weight range. The grooves did not fit, and I found that I could miss with it. I sold it to a club member, it was #15 in your site's gallery.

I just found another Magic Bow, in New York. I fear that the owner will not part with it until he is in the ground, especially since I so glowingly waxed rhapsodic about it to him. The grooves fit perfectly, and the bow shot every arrow in my quiver to wherever I looked. Embarrassing, when my eye wandered at the last moment of release! It is a double carbon, 58" and it was around 45# at 28".  My fingers had to be pried away from the grip, as they felt so at home there.
It was serial #00146.
I think.
It belongs to Larry Marshall. The stingy curmudgeon. I want one just like that, a pound or two more in draw weight would be fine. You have one just like it in stock? No? GOOD! That gives me time to save up for it. How long is the wait on your bows?

(yaddayaddayadda,)
Kathy
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This letter was penned on the cusp of February and March of this year. I had spent the previous two weeks vainly trying to wheedle, strong-arm, sweet-talk and cry a bow away from a curmudgeon whom I had the misfortune to meet in All-bunny, NY. I was fine, having the Magic Bow on the back burner of my brain kept me alert and anticipatory, eagerly perusing the classifieds and eyeballing used bow lists. That all changed when I went bunny hunting.

I met the bow. The scene is an ice-covered flat of ground, with motley clots of archers slipsliding arrows into 3D targets and shattering shafts on a steel plate. I was bombarded with the faces and handshakes of old new friends, folks with whom I had chatted and shared hearts' journeys with yet never seen before, and those whom I was meeting for the first time ever.

Tables nearby were stacked with donated prizes and bows for all to try. I heard a voice. I turned around. There was a table with a bow that glowed black as the pits in Satan's eyes.

I innocently asked, whose Centaur is that? Satan sneered and triumphantly hissed, "That's my bow, go ahead and try it!"

One arrow...hit! Two arrows, dead bear! Three, four, all the arrows in my quiver, ash, aluminum, cedar, all were killers save the last one, where my eye wandered as the fingers slipped the string. It hit where I looked. Not just a few, but all of my arrows, two quivers full. People were watching, I went to put the bow down. My hand hung over the table, immobile as I commanded it to open gently and lay the bow down. It heeded me not, until I drew upon my last wisp of will and used the other hand to pry open my fingers.

Larry leered triumphantly. I had to ask. My offers were spurned. I memorized the serial number.

For two weeks I bargained with the devil, and all that he would offer was paired with parting me from my newly acquired Morrison, (just the riser...just the heart!) No way! The Cheyenne had rekindled my hopes of one day becoming a true archer, and I would not bargain with that dream. Finally, I realized that Larry would never part with the bow that Killdeer loved, and one that he had taken one of the elusive JLMBH bunnies with on that historic hunt.

Front and center:
See the triumphant leer? Look at him...NO! Don't look at his eyes! You don't want to know what's in there!!!  :scared:   Poor bunny.

(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/TG%20Uploads/JLMBH/TheMagicBow.jpg)

Yes, two weeks of pestering and suffering that smug smiling smarmy visage posed next to the noble weapon was all I could stand. I wrote the above note and sent it to Mr. Neaves, my would-be rescuer. I sent him two tracings of my hand, because I am compulsive and the first tracing was of my hand which had only been washed twice, so i washed it some more and retraced it. I also sent him a sizeable check to show how brave and earnest I was. I want curly koa, please, Mr. Neaves.

It will be done in May of '09, he said. Will I live that long? Will he keep his hands out of the bandsaw? I have grown old enough to know that a lot can happen in a year and however many months that is. It would be worth the wait and the expense to be able to thumb my nose at the devil and his temptation, though. I would sleep well and wait, knowing that waiting, self denial and the overcoming of whim and wistfulness builds character and nobility.
Beer break. Tea my aching aspidistra!

Killdeer
My Baby!
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Killdeer/TG%20Uploads/JLMBH/Img_5330.jpg)

I also found my magic bow many years ago and let it slip into the darkness. May your wait be short.

QuoteOriginally posted by Killdeer:
Dear Mr. Neaves,


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with motley clots of archers slipsliding arrows into 3D targets and shattering shafts on a steel plate..........


Satan sneered and triumphantly hissed, "That's my bow, go ahead and try it!".......


For two weeks I bargained with the devil.....

Gees, and I thought you liked us......   :bigsmyl:  

I gotta ask though, what happens to the Cheyenne when the "Magic Bow" comes??????   Huh, huh?

David

reading the rest of this thread is most certainly going to pain me.

I think she should have an escort other than Mikey next year Larry, someone who can control her deep rooted urges of wanton lust over what others have........


David

i'm glad to see i'm not the only one that suffers from such an affliction...
Randy

although I must say...my vest does seem to have a fiery kind of glow to it  :D

:bigsmyl:  Killie your slipping....you had two weeks and you couldn't talk the Devil out of his "Magic Bow"?

Jerry

Killy your only hope is that the devil grows weaker with each passing year.
Larry(balzabub,satan the dark lord)my friend.I now understand how he wills those arrows to the ten ring.

Two weeks...a letter, a deposit, a dream, a plan.

Enter the dragon. I get a PM from my tormentor, who will never get my Morrison riser that fits me like a glove and took TWO bunnies that weekend, informing me that he was perhaps sortov maybe thinking of perusing the possibilities of and contemplating placing his Centaur in the classifieds.

"I think I may put the centaur up for sale..." it started,  and finished thusly, "if you've got any interest I'll give you first shot...or I'd take xxx.00 and your cheyenne riser."  

Well, not capitalizing the name Cheyenne immediately told me the depth of disrespect he held not only for the bow, but the bowyer, me and the entire Cheyenne Nation. That made up my mind in an instant. I played hard to get, and put my foot down immediately.

"'Course I want it.
No, I won't trade my riser."

This resounding reply registered as a tinny whine, translating in his mind to "She pouted, arms folded, and stamped her little foot." so he tried again. I countered.

"So, when do you think you may be listing said bow?
(rummaging through pockets and finding lint.)
Gotta get to bed, it is an hour past my bedtime but I was up late waiting for PMs.

Did I mention how much cheaper this would have been if you had stopped sitting on that bow  before  I sent Jim 200 bucks and  two  handprints???    :bigsmyl:

David, from the dictionary:

1 : variegated in color
2 : composed of diverse often incongruous elements

Now, tell me, thinking back on the collection of camo, blaze orange, tan, blinding white, plaid and yes, ickyicky pink, do you still consider "motley" to be a term af disparagement?

Oy, I write for such as these?
Killdeer  :rolleyes: