illinoisdeerhunter
Member
- Joined
- Jul 22, 2007
- Messages
- 33
The post "Brought a 12GA to the fight.", brought back memories of my night club parking lot incident back in 1986.
I was in college and a group of my friends wanted to make the 30 mile trek to the next town to visit a night/dance club. I volunteered to be the designated driver.
I had a '79 Ford Fiesta with BAD shocks and we crammed 6 of us into it. In the back, under the spare tire, I kept a cased, unloaded .38.
We made it to the club with no fanfare. I went into the club with my friends and stayed at the bar sipping on soda.
Well before midnight, one of the guys already had too much to drink and I was tired anyway. I took the guy out to the car and he apparently passed out in the passenger seat while I kicked back in the drivers seat listening the radio.
I sat, eyes closed, relaxing, when all of the sudden, the back of the car starts bouncing like CRAZY. I stick my head out the window to see two guys standing on the bumper, holding onto the back of the car, jumping up and down, laughing crazily. They thought that both of us in the car were passed out drunk and they thought they'd have a little fun with us.
"Get off my car!" I blurted out.
"F&*K you!" was the response I got.
You know, looking back I still can't figure out how I rode comfortably in the sardine can of a car. I un furled my 6'3", 240 pounds from within the front seat to take a stauncher appoach. "What the F&*k do you think you're doing a$$ h*les." was my response as I recall.
One of them quickly replied, "Who you callin' an @$$ hole, cowboy?" (I had on jeans, boots a ball cap and a John Deere shirt as I recall.)
They did get off and retreated over to a van where three other 'gentlemen' got out. The threats escellated as the group moved over to the front of my car where one put his hands on the hood and started ranting curses intermixed with something I couldn't understand.
I realized at that point that there was a high likelyhood that a physical altercation was about to occur. I wasn't about to just turn tail and run. My friend was in the car passed out. I wasn't about to step into an altercation with 5 thugs unarmed either. I moved to the back of my Fiesta and keyed the hatch. As I opened the hatch one of the individuals had gone back to the van and excitedly called back the his compatriots, "He get somethin' out his trunk...I get something outta mine!"
The thug pulled a tire iron out of the back of the van as I was still fumbling to unholster the revolver. When I did produce the .38 I heard, "Dat boy got a pistol!" and....FFFFSSSSHHHHHHTTTT....they all disappeared into the van in seconds flat and fled in haste, tires squeeling.
It was at that point that my friend, "passed out' in the car hopped out. He wasn't passed out but he was too scared to get out and back me up. I instructed him to go back in and gather the guys (it was near closing time anyway), we were leaving.
It took my friend 10 minutes or so to get the guys and get them out to the car. I leaned against the hood of my car, pistol discreetly tucked under my shirt anxiously waiting for my passengers to arrive.
The van did cruise by out on the street a couple of times and each time it did, I pulled up my shirt and showed the nickle plated revolver, ready to dodge behind my car myself if there were any quick movements from the van.
Looking back, we were very lucky.
One thing I know now is this. Even though I don't hide in a shell to avoid situations, I also realize what my daddy used to tell me is so true.
"It's tough to get in a fight at a church picnic."
Avoiding exposure to altercations is the best defense against them. Next to that, a small sidearm beats a big bat any day.
I was in college and a group of my friends wanted to make the 30 mile trek to the next town to visit a night/dance club. I volunteered to be the designated driver.
I had a '79 Ford Fiesta with BAD shocks and we crammed 6 of us into it. In the back, under the spare tire, I kept a cased, unloaded .38.
We made it to the club with no fanfare. I went into the club with my friends and stayed at the bar sipping on soda.
Well before midnight, one of the guys already had too much to drink and I was tired anyway. I took the guy out to the car and he apparently passed out in the passenger seat while I kicked back in the drivers seat listening the radio.
I sat, eyes closed, relaxing, when all of the sudden, the back of the car starts bouncing like CRAZY. I stick my head out the window to see two guys standing on the bumper, holding onto the back of the car, jumping up and down, laughing crazily. They thought that both of us in the car were passed out drunk and they thought they'd have a little fun with us.
"Get off my car!" I blurted out.
"F&*K you!" was the response I got.
You know, looking back I still can't figure out how I rode comfortably in the sardine can of a car. I un furled my 6'3", 240 pounds from within the front seat to take a stauncher appoach. "What the F&*k do you think you're doing a$$ h*les." was my response as I recall.
One of them quickly replied, "Who you callin' an @$$ hole, cowboy?" (I had on jeans, boots a ball cap and a John Deere shirt as I recall.)
They did get off and retreated over to a van where three other 'gentlemen' got out. The threats escellated as the group moved over to the front of my car where one put his hands on the hood and started ranting curses intermixed with something I couldn't understand.
I realized at that point that there was a high likelyhood that a physical altercation was about to occur. I wasn't about to just turn tail and run. My friend was in the car passed out. I wasn't about to step into an altercation with 5 thugs unarmed either. I moved to the back of my Fiesta and keyed the hatch. As I opened the hatch one of the individuals had gone back to the van and excitedly called back the his compatriots, "He get somethin' out his trunk...I get something outta mine!"
The thug pulled a tire iron out of the back of the van as I was still fumbling to unholster the revolver. When I did produce the .38 I heard, "Dat boy got a pistol!" and....FFFFSSSSHHHHHHTTTT....they all disappeared into the van in seconds flat and fled in haste, tires squeeling.
It was at that point that my friend, "passed out' in the car hopped out. He wasn't passed out but he was too scared to get out and back me up. I instructed him to go back in and gather the guys (it was near closing time anyway), we were leaving.
It took my friend 10 minutes or so to get the guys and get them out to the car. I leaned against the hood of my car, pistol discreetly tucked under my shirt anxiously waiting for my passengers to arrive.
The van did cruise by out on the street a couple of times and each time it did, I pulled up my shirt and showed the nickle plated revolver, ready to dodge behind my car myself if there were any quick movements from the van.
Looking back, we were very lucky.
One thing I know now is this. Even though I don't hide in a shell to avoid situations, I also realize what my daddy used to tell me is so true.
"It's tough to get in a fight at a church picnic."
Avoiding exposure to altercations is the best defense against them. Next to that, a small sidearm beats a big bat any day.
