Hoppe’s

February 20, 2018

There’s something about the smell of Hoppe’s that says, “This was a good day.” It’s certainly not politically correct, especially in the aftermath of school shootings that seem to escalate every time the media descends on the latest scene of tragedy, giving unstable people a platform that draws the attention of the entire country. But Hoppe’s still has that aroma like nothing else in the world. 

For anyone unfamiliar with such matters, Hoppe’s is the solvent and oil I grew up with. It may have other uses, but it has been a staple of shooters for generations. My father used it to clean his shotguns and .22s. Not having been present at the time, I can’t say for sure that my grandfather used it, but the fact that the 12 gauge LeFevre Nitro Special side by side that was once his is still in pristine condition is testimony to the care he lavished upon such a prized possession. I can still almost feel the jolt that sat me down the time I managed to discharge both barrels at the same time. I didn’t make that mistake a second time. The gun now belongs to my son, having passed now through four generations. I expect someday it will be little Nathan’s. If so, it will in part be due to Hoppe’s.

Last Christmas, on behalf of all our kids who chipped in to make it possible, Matt presented me with the gift everyone was waiting for. I had no idea. As everyone looked on, I unwrapped a lever action .38/357 carbine, a beauty I had admired since the previous summer when Matt let me shoot his. It too, is a beauty, and is more accurate than I am. Last week, Matt suggested that with the weather forecast of warmth, and he having the week off work, this might be a good time to sight it in, so this morning, we did just that. The air was springlike as we walked through the woods and set up targets. An hour later, we had exploded a bag full of potatoes, along with assorted milk cartons, pop bottles, and a handful of boards I had salvaged from the take away bin at the pallet factory down the road.

Back home, it was time for the Hoppe’s. The cloth was just a bit cleaner with each pass through the barrel, till it was ready for the protective coating of oil, and I breathed in once more that sweet Hoppe’s aroma. It was a good day, and I am thankful tonight.