I've been thinking about posting this since it happened about six weeks ago, it's the main reason I upgraded my CCW pistol from a .380 to a 45ACP! (I also posted this on Marlin Owners forum.)
It was a sunny fall afternoon about 4:30, I realized I was out of milk, and drove to the local Quickie-Mart to get more. As I pulled off the lot, I remembered that my .380 Bersa was in the compartment on top of the dash, and I wanted to make sure I took it inside when I got home, lest it get stolen out of the car. So I got it out and tucked it under my right leg to remind me.
Two blocks later I approached a stop sign, and as I got closer two salty-looking miscreants walked out in front of me in the intersection, and as I stopped for the stop sign, the taller one began to approach my door, while the other one stopped in front of the car on the passenger side. Both had their hands in their pockets, and I hit the door locks on instinct as they got closer. The passenger window was up, so I wasn't too worried about the second guy, but the taller one walked toward me, smiling. He said, "Gimme a dollar, man!" and I said, "I don't carry cash, pal, sorry." He didn't stop smiling but he moved closer and his left hand started to come out of his pocket. "I need a dollar, man!" As his hand came farther out of his pocket I could see he had a long table knife, and as he leaned in closer and reached toward the door handle, his face was only a few feet away. I don't remember putting my hand on the gun, but as I raised it, it bonked into his forehead, right over his eyes, and I hissed, "No cash! Now BACK OFF!"
He did exactly that, his eyes wide, the knife in his hand, his buddy apparently frozen in place in front of my car, and the taller one practically yelled, "Yo! Be Cool, Be Cool!" I yelled back, "I'm fine....but you need to stop screwing with people you don't know, now BEAT IT!" I watched as he darted back across the intersection the way he had come, his buddy was already out of sight. I checked my mirrors and swiveled my head to make sure he wasn't still around, then punched the gas and got the heck out of there.
About two more blocks towards home, I realized I was shaking like a leaf, the gun still in my hand. I pulled up in front of my building, sat for a few minutes to compose myself, then went inside. My 15-year old son was staying with me at the time, and as soon as I walked in he looked up, tossed the Playstation controller on the floor, and said, "Jesus! What happened?" I just shook my head, went to the kitchen to put the milk away, and grabbed a beer. He followed me out there, waiting and watching me, and saw my hands were still shaking. I finished the beer, grabbed another, then we went into the living room and I told him what had happened. The gun was in my waistband, and when I took it out to put it away, I noticed the hammer was at half-cock, NOT hammer-down, the way I always carried it. In other words, I'd pulled the trigger hard enough to get past the half-cock notch without realizing it. Another pound or two of pressure, and I'd have blown that idiot's brains all over the street. I decided as I put the gun away it wasn't the right caliber to count on in a pinch, and decided to upgrade ASAP.
It's funny what you remember about stuff like this. Everything went into slow-motion (Tachypsychia) as I watched his hand coming out of his pocket, I remember realizing that he was left handed, and that it wasn't a hunting knife, it was a long butter knife. It would still have severed an artery if he'd jammed it into my neck, but it was almost funny at the time. I heard a muffled THUNK when the muzzle of the gun met his forehead, and it left a ring when he quickly backed away. His eyes were about the size of Alaska, and he was wheezing as he yelled at me to Be Cool.
I've played it back in my head about a million times since, some people I've told about it said they'd have run one or both of them down, but I'm not sure how that would have turned out. Several have said they'd have pulled the trigger, maybe several times. I was perfectly legal in my state to have the gun in the car, but I'm glad I didn't fire, I did what I've always trained others to do.....extricate yourself from the situation, if at all possible.
I never did calll the police, I couldn't give a very good description, just two hoodrats in jeans, tennis shoes and dark hooded sweatshirts. That describes about 90% of the people who live in that neighborhood. I still drive through there on occasion, but you can bet I'm on full alert, and armed, when I do. And these days, there's a 45ACP close by, not a .380!
Papajohn the Extricator
