I vividly remember the first time I met Chuck at the Confederate Ordnance gun shop where he was working at the time (must have been 1976-77). As I walked in, he caught me in his stare and I stood very still, because I knew he was deciding if he had to shoot me or not. After half a second, he decided I was OK (for now), and I looked around the shop and we talked a bit, and I knew he would be a friend. He was one of those friends who, even if you hadn't seen him in a year or two, never missed a beat the next time you caught up with each other. He would shake your hand or give you a hug, and it was like you were just hanging out the day before. When my father was killed in a hunting accident, Chuck's heart was broken, even though they had never met, because he knew MY heart was broken. He arranged to have an article about my Dad published in a magazine, and I will never forget that favor, as it allowed me to share my Dad with everyone. As the saying goes, they just don't make them like this anymore. See you later, Chuck, hope they have a good range.