The year was 1993, and the summer sun was beating down on the black pavement with a vengeance. I had moved to Charlotte, North Carolina, and picked up a job in car sales. With the Speedway down the road, Charlotte was car country; it was gun country, as well. People loved their cars, and I loved making money off those people. I started pulling in money, hand over fist. It was the first job that provided me with lots of disposable income, rather than just making enough to get by, and I bought quite a few firearms that year.
I wet my feet in the 7.62x39mm world by buying my first SKS and a Maadi AK-47 that year and played around with them a bit. Maybe it was the snob in me or just the eccentricities of these weapons that put me off, but I never really developed an affinity for those two rifle styles.