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98 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 7.15 Business has changed a lot in nearly 40 years. "When we frst got into it, we had people who were hunters and people who were collectors. Tere was very few that worried about a gun for protection," Tilford says. Now, the store carries few hunting guns. "Probably 90 percent of your frearms sales are handguns. It's usually something to protect themselves with. It's really sad. People are scared. People are worried. It's not what America is supposed to be about." I talk to Tilford about buying a gun and walk out with a Brazilian-made revolver, a Taurus Ultra-Lite .38 Special, for $299.95. Marty Tilford notices that the trigger is a little too resistant for me; when I pull it with the frst pad of my index fnger, the way I'm supposed to, the gun barrel moves slightly to the left. So I cheat and use more of my fnger. Who's going to notice? Unlike the Smith & Wesson, this gun does not feel perfect in my hand. But it's not awkward. I'm satisfed. I also buy two boxes of full-metal jacket ammo. I don't care that this is considered "practice" ammo and that gun experts will tell you that for defensive ammo, you need to spend more. Tese bullets will still maim and kill. Tat's more than enough for me. Really, it's almost too much. It's the last Tursday in April and I'm on my way to Bif's Gun World, a single-story building fading to pink on Dixie Highway in Valley Station. Tose two Kroger bags — one with bras, one with a gun — sit in my passen- ger seat. My wallet holds my concealed-carry license, which I just picked up at the Jefer- son County Sherif's Ofce. Te card looks alarmingly authentic. Inside the sherif's ofce, I tucked it away with self-conscious noncha- lance, waiting for someone to object, to realize I should not have this card. Tat gun I bought? I'm afraid to fre it. I am sure it will blow up in my hands. Later today I'll have to shoot it for the frst time. I will not think about that right now. I've heard Bif's described as the most un- usual gun store in America. But as I pull up, it looks more like a sad little fea market. Beside the front door a hand-lettered sign reads, "If you get caught stealing call the police for med- ical help." Don't doubt it. Last year, the man in charge here, 77-year-old Bif Sumner, aimed a gun at a policeman who was on the property of Bif's Motel on Dixie Highway. Te way Sumner tells it, the story is beyond complicat- ed. Best not to ask. Sumner was arrested in the incident. I open the door. I stand there, frozen. I cannot take it in. Tere is stuf everywhere. Everywhere. An explosion of plastic, metal and wood, the secondhand treasures of the 20th century, all displayed with a mad sort of logic. Plastic pails sprout scores of fshing poles. Mounted deer heads gaze in push-me-pull-you opposition. Dense thickets of stuf hang from the ceiling: cast-iron pans, stufed toys, cofee pots, Minnie Mouse. Bedpans. Many, many bedpans. Where are the guns? No one mans the counter. I wander aisles narrowed by billowing, multiplying merchan- dise. Knife displays. Hog fat renderers. Giant shell casings. Outboard motors. Hundreds and hundreds of fshing reels. Finally, across from a collection of fussy baby dolls, I see a wall of rifes. And I see handguns. And there are the ARs. I am in the right place. Moments later, Winfred "Bif" Sumner — patriarch of the fam- ily featured in the short-lived Country Music Television reality series Guntucky — comes out wearing Knob Creek Range sweatpants and a Knob Creek Range sweatshirt. He owns Knob Creek Range outfts in various colors and wears a diferent one nearly every day. Bif is the founder of the range that his son Kenny owns and operates today. Kenny also owns this store. I tell Bif that I've met his grandson, Chad Sumner. Bif's eyes fll with tears. "My grandson is a very good boy. He's helping his dad out as well as I helped mine out. I'm very proud of him," he says. Bif has been in the gun business since his dad's hardware store started stocking shot- guns and shells 65 years ago. At that time, a single-barrel shotgun cost $19.95. (Now the cheapest is $179 wholesale, Sumner says.) In 1964 Bif bid on and won the frst 256 acres of what today is the Knob Creek Gun Range. At frst, people who wanted to use his range would stop by the hardware store, and Bif charged them a dollar for a key to the range gates. Te gun store at the range grew out of necessity — shooters ran out of ammo. Selling ammo led to selling guns. Over the years, Kenny has expand- ed that store substantially. Today the showroom is some 5,000 square feet. Bif has bitter words for the way the gun business has changed. "Honey, it's changed so damn much it's just unreal," he says. Nancy Bratcher, whom Bif calls his "right-hand man," steps into the back room and urges him toward more positive subjects. Tey've known each other 50 years. I ask if they're an item. "We've hung around for a long time," Bratcher says. "It's kind of like being married." When we walk Jenni's Got a Gun Continued from page 37