Trial by Fire?
Posted: Tue Oct 26, 2010 3:42 am
If you been in the gun forum scene for a while, you've probably read the famous (or infamous) Glock torture test. It absolutely amazing what those handguns were put through and they still ran. GLock aficionados often tout those tests as a testament to the reliability and ruggedness of the brand. Gaston Glock's approach to handgun manufacturing has revolutionized the handgun industry making a polymer framed, striker fired handgun the next best thing since sliced bread. So much media attention and time is lavished on this product that for anyone born after 1985, the synonym for a desirable handgun is summarized in one word; "Glock".
However, I'm an old fashioned guy and when I was growing up, guns were made of steel. Intellectually, I know that today's polymer firearms are tough enough to cut the mustard but emotionally, holding a piece of metal in my hand just feels more reassuring. There are quite a few people who think like me, usually gun enthusiasts my age and older. So it was with interest that I read the following article: Trial by Fire.
However, I'm an old fashioned guy and when I was growing up, guns were made of steel. Intellectually, I know that today's polymer firearms are tough enough to cut the mustard but emotionally, holding a piece of metal in my hand just feels more reassuring. There are quite a few people who think like me, usually gun enthusiasts my age and older. So it was with interest that I read the following article: Trial by Fire.
I realize that there are some things that an all-metal gun will endure that a polymer framed gun cannot. Obviously, any firearm that I own will never undergo that kind of stress and I most likely will not be required to shoot it after it has been subjected to something like that. Still, one could say that reading about this 'test' does reaffirm my bias towards all-metal hardware and SIG-Sauer's advertising slogan of "To Hell And Back Reliability".The Steiger fired up and squatted on ’em again. This time, loud, sharp snapping noises pierced the guttural rumble of the diesel, and howls of glee erupted from a circle of sadists — not me. “The frames!” they cried, “Whattaya bet that was a frame crackin’?” The Steiger rolled forward and stopped. Chip bent over and examined the damage to ... the rocks.
