It's a great rifle; it does jam, but it is more my fault for not cleaning it as it should be. But I HATE.. no, I LOATHE, the smell of the gun cleaning stuff. Mark cleans them outside on the porch, out of the goodness of his little heart, because it makes me want to yack. I am not squeamish; smelling blood and guts at the butcher shop, fine. But that junk... urgh.