When I got to South Dakota, Budz gave me the loaner, a gun with a lot more bells and whistles than mine. After carrying it for a few hours and having fired it just twice, that gun had completely ruined my relationship with my own gun, which suddenly seemed heavy, shoddy, clunky. It was the difference between driving a cement truck and driving a Porsche. It wasn’t just that the loaner was a pound lighter, shot a larger range of shells, and had noticeably less recoil. It had better balance, pointed better, and handled better.