I joined this forum because of this post.
The 760 was my first gun. I had to save up $10, my Dad said if I saved up half, he'd pay half. It took me months - I looked for pennies on the road, did odd jobs, you name it. $10 was not easy to come up with in the 70s, at least not where I was. I could not afford pellets or darts, but I was smart and when asked to pick out some BBs, got the "X-L-O Pack", a small milk carton, of copper plated BBs.
The gun had a little bolt like a bolt action rifle has, in miniature. It had a magnet on the end and would pick up a BB from a little reservoir in the top of the rifle, where you could see 'em in a slit. Word was a friend of my older brother's (Older bro didn't have to save up for HIS, and he broke the stock on his somehow fairly soon after getting it) told Crosman to put that little magnet in there, but I dunno.
I thought it was beautiful. It rested near my bed and got a rusty place on the barrel from my picking it up that way all the time. The distinctive sound - whap! whap! whap! - of it being pumped was very common around our place. It swear it was a plot to give exercise to weedy kids, at least 3 pumps per shot, and up to 20. I was also told that if ONE BB ever perforated a window, a cat, a sibling, or even dented anything not bettered by denting, the gun would be taken away. Birds needless to say were off limits, since that was considered Mean. But, little dirt clods sticking up from a rain-washed hillside exploded in a very satisfying way. Grasshoppers and fat blue flies were legit targets. I did work out how many feet to hold over to hit the neighbor's mailbox with a TINK! 100 yards or so away. I'd go to a pond and shoot minnows. I'd pick out a flower or a differently colored leaf and while the rule "no missing allowed" was broken it wasn't broken that often.
A BB never went where a BB should not be, and while I'm sure I read the NRA safety rules as part of the issues of American Rifleman a friend gave me and I inhaled, more importantly, I lived them. The M16 in the Army and the M60, and later, plinking and competitive shooting, it all started with that wee-wee little air gun.
And they HAVE shrunk! I can't believe how teeny that gun is now, and I'm afraid to try pumping one; I'd rather remember it as a fairly heavy-duty machine that takes real effort and makes you EARN each shot.
