I have been lugging a pistol around for thirty five years. It is a nuisance. I have to make certain I remember to bring it with me every time I leave the house. I have to always know where it is, make sure it is safe from theft or curious hands, and it can be heavy and uncomfortable to wear. Mind you, I love my pistols because most of them are the pinnacle of the machinist’s art. My collection, better than I ever thought I would have as a young man, goes back five generations in my family. They aren’t just tools. They are a testament to the ingenuity and skill of man, but just carrying a hunk of steel around is a pain in the butt. When I am home, I always have one either within arm’s reach or a step or two away. I have solved some of the problem by stepping down from a full sized pistol to a sub-compact, but it is still a nuisance.

Stainless, timeless, priceless

I find recreational shooting enormously enjoyable and years ago I did some competitive shooting. For me, the competition was just organized recreational shooting. Back in those days, I would burn through fifty thousand or more rounds per year. I was no Jerry Miculek but I guess I wasn’t too bad. I could break clays with ease with a pistol even drawing after the clay was in the air. Unfortunately, that is a perishable skill as I recently learned. Despite my enjoyment of all that, utility carrying is no fun. I wish I lived in a world where I could just put them all back in the safe after playtime is over.

I raised or partially raised several children, but I have only one biological son. He was the kid everyone wishes they had. He was never any trouble and actually followed the advice I gave him. I don’t know how much of that was because of me. I know his mother was no small part of it, but I like to think I wasn’t, either. He is a grown man now, married with two children and owns his own wildly successful business. He is smart and industrious and a true credit to our society.

When he was one year old, or thereabouts, his mother and I had our own business. It was a lot of work and meant long work days, sometimes up to 16 hours. We took turns in the evenings taking our son home and putting him to bed. One evening it was my turn so I put him in the child seat and strapped it in on the passenger side front seat. It was a dreary night, pissing rain and cold. Visibility was bad. In those days we had a small traffic circle that I had to navigate through to get home. Because it was so small, it was impossible to yield and then zip around. Invariably cars had to stop and wait. It functioned more as a four-way stop than a circle. On that evening, as usual, I had to stop. There were several cars in front of me and cars stopped behind me.

Without any warning a man began pounding on the passenger side window with his fist, just inches from my infant son. He was yanking on the door handle and trying to break the glass at the same time. He was screaming and cursing at me and demanding that I open the door. I don’t know where he came from. I have no idea what his circumstances were or why he was doing that, but no way in hell was I going to unlock that door. Fortunately, I had my pistol tucked between the seat and the console. I drew it out, reached across the cabin and pointed straight at his chest. I tapped on the window three times with the end of the barrel. *Poof*. The guy disappeared like smoke in the wind. I looked around the windows and in all of the mirrors, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. He must have dropped to the ground and crawled away. I still thank God he had the wisdom to do that. I didn’t have to pull the trigger but if he had broken that window or gotten that door open I certainly would have. In all of the years I have carried a pistol, that is the only time I have had to lay hands on it in earnest.

A pistol is exactly analogous to a fire extinguisher: another tool that I keep close at hand all of the time. I keep two of those in my jeep. You lug it around and 99.9999% of the time you don’t need it, but when the moment arises that you do need it, by God you need it.

As you can imagine, anti-gun and anti-second amendment arguments don’t carry much weight with me. Walk out all you want. Yammer lies until your jaw falls off. I am keeping my guns. It just isn’t up for discussion. My son is likely in the world today because one rainy evening twenty five years ago I had a pistol.