August 07, 2010
Originally published October 5, 2002
I own several guns, and the 76% Worshipable Woman carries a .38 revolver in her purse. It's a nice Ladysmith, but I told her last night that unless she practices a LOT with it (she has never fired the thing), she had better be able to touch her target with the 2" barrel, or she'll miss.
Of couse, that's not a bad thing. That little hand-cannon makes enough noise that she could point it straight up at the ceiling and fire away if she heard a burglar in the house. The would-be thieving bastard would take out window glass and screen, leaving a shit-trail on the floor as he ran for his worthless life. A Ladysmith is LOUD outdoors. Fire one inside a house and you'll think hellzapoppin'.
She wants another, more powerful and accurate weapon for home protection. I recommended a 410 shotgun.
I don't know if ARMED LIBERAL would agree, but I believe that a 410 is the ideal firearm for dealing with footpads and critters, inside or outside the house. It is easy to handle, you don't need to stick bricks in your back pockets to deal with the kick, and it makes a nice hole in what you shoot at from 20 feet, which is a LONG shot inside your home. And it makes a loud noise, too.
When I played guitar for a living, I carried a Colt .22 derringer, a nice two-trigger, over and under double-barrel. It was smaller than a pack of cigarettes and held two .22 longs. It fit nicely in a jacket pocket or in the back pocket of a pair of Levis. It made me feel warm and fuzzy when I left bars in downtown Savannah at 3:00 AM and carried two guitars down back lanes or through bushy squares to get to my car.
I left the Red Lion Tavern at the Desoto Hilton one night and walked about a block to where I had parked. As I was opening the trunk of my car, I saw a lanky black guy with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth approaching. Behind me, I heard another person coming my way. "Hey, man," said the lanky black guy,"You got a light?" I heard the footsteps behind me pick up their pace.
I pulled the derringer out of my pocket and stuck it in the black guy's face. "I've got your light RIGHT HERE!" I yelled.
"JESUS! HE GOTTA GUN!" the bastard screamed. He turned on his heel and ran, and so did his partner behind me.
I stood there in the street for a moment, feeling downright proud of myself. They were going to rob me, and I scared them off. I was a goddam Clint Eastwood. I was John Wayne. Man, I was COOL! I stuck the derringer back in my pocket and attempted to light a cigarette.
My hands were shaking so badly that I almost set my hair on fire.
If I had NOT been armed that night, I would have been robbed or killed. That's what those two shits intended to do, and a .22 derringer changed their minds.
If THAT gun loomed large to them, think about what the wrong end of a 410 shotgun looks like.
All content © Rob Smith