It was about 1974 and I had just moved back to my hometown. I had rented a small red sports car and was pulled into a parking spot at a 7-11. I didn’t have a concealed carry permit but was allowed to have my pistol laying on my car seat.
As I was getting ready to exit my car, I noticed 2 rather large rough-looking men looking my way and talking loud enough for me to hear about what a pretty little car I had and how they could get me and the car.
I didn’t get out. I reached beside me and when one of the men laughingly approached my car and stuck his head near the window. (Since the car had no AC the window was down.). As he leaned towards me, I raised my .38 Charter Arms snub nose revolver and asked him what his problem was.
As he ran back to his friends, I heard him say, “That crazy bitch has a gun!” I just put it on my lap and waited for a friend to come out of the store and offered him a ride home.
It was mid-afternoon. The store was ONE block from the police station. I didn’t know at the time that a young female clerk had been raped, beaten and dumped behind the store after she closed up only a week before.
Were those men just being obnoxious or was there something else on their mind? I’ll never know. I do know they did not bother me. My stepfather was a cop. I told him what had happened when I got home. He didn’t think it needed to be reported, but then he told me about the ‘incident’.
You cannot depend on someone else to protect you. Not even the cops. Don’t get me wrong. I respect law enforcement and have had good friends that were cops. They just can’t be everywhere all the time.