# The Rimfire Report: Why The Ruger 10/22 Will Never Die
In the ever-evolving battlefield of rimfire rifles, the Ruger 10/22 stands as an unkillable titan, a .22 LR legend that’s been slinging lead since 1964 without breaking a sweat. This semi-auto carbine has weathered six decades of market assaults from flashier rivals touting polymer stocks, threaded barrels, or modular rails—yet it remains the undisputed champ, with over 7 million units sold and a stranglehold on the American plinking throne. The source nails it: waves of 10/22 killers like the CMMG Banshee or Savage A22 have dazzled with gimmicks (suppressor-ready out of the box, anyone?), but they fizzle into niche obscurity. Why? The 10/22’s secret sauce is its unholy trinity of dirt-cheap parts availability, Tinker-Toy modularity, and bulletproof reliability that laughs off mud, neglect, and teenage abuse. In a 2A world where training the next generation matters more than tactical LARPing, this rifle’s familiarity breeds competence—every kid’s first varmint zapper, every SHTF trainer.
Dig deeper, and the 10/22’s immortality reveals cold, hard implications for gun owners: it’s the ultimate democratizer of marksmanship. While boutique killers chase spec-sheet supremacy (looking at you, Kel-Tec SU-22 with its funky folding stock), they overlook the 10/22’s ecosystem—a thriving aftermarket where you can slap on a chassis, red dot, or takedown barrel for pennies on the dollar. Competitors like the Smith & Wesson M&P 15-22 snag tactical fans with AR ergonomics, but their proprietary mags and scarcer spares ensure they stay forever in Ruger’s shadow. For the 2A community, this isn’t just nostalgia; it’s a blueprint for resilience. Bans on assault weapons crumble against the 10/22’s benign profile—semi-auto, tube-fed vibes that evade red-flag radars—while its ubiquity makes confiscation a logistical nightmare. As ammo prices yo-yo and supply chains wobble, the 10/22’s low barrier to entry (under $300 street price) keeps high-volume fire alive for training, small game, and backyard defense drills.
The real killer app? Cultural inertia. The 10/22 isn’t a gun; it’s a rite of passage, memed into eternity via YouTube builds and NFA trusts. Sure, the Tippmann M4-22 edges it in mil-spec mimicry, but without the soul of a billion backyard memories, it’s just another also-ran. For pro-2A warriors, the lesson is clear: innovate all you want, but dethrone the king at your peril. The 10/22 endures because it empowers the everyman—affordable, adaptable, and eternally relevant—proving that in the fight for our rights, reliability trumps revolution every time. Grab one, mod it to hell, and join the ranks of those who know: this rimfire ruler ain’t going anywhere.
