My Gun Saved My Life & My Friends’ Lives
I’ve shared before that I was raised in a home with loaded guns. My dad started teaching me to shoot at age 4 and I shot my first rabbit at age 5. I still believe that was the best tasting rabbit I ever ate.
But our home was a safe home. The loaded guns were not in plain sight but we kids knew where they were and how easily accessed they would be if needed for an emergency. We were also taught to respect guns, to never play with real guns and never ever, ever, touch any of the real guns without permission unless it was an emergency.
Needless to say, I’ve been a pro-gun rights person my entire life. I knew from my teen years that if anyone tried to confiscate my guns, they would have to pry them from my dead hands, because I was and still am willing to die for the right to own and keep a gun in my house for protection.
I believe so strongly in gun rights that when I planned my own suicide at age 19, I planned to use my car and not a gun, because I didn’t want my death to be used to promote any form of gun control. Fortunately, God intervened at the right time and spared my life.
When discussing, debating and arguing gun rights with gun control advocates, I’ve often referred to a number of instances where a homeowner used a loaded gun kept in the house to protect themselves and their loved ones. Not only in the home, but there have been a number of instances where a person with a legal concealed carry weapon used that weapon to defend and protect themselves and others.
Some have come back with the question asking me if I have ever had need to use a gun for self-defense and my answer is YES! In fact, there have been two times I’ve used my gun to save my life.
Many years ago, I frequently drove from my home in Mesa, Arizona, north to Flagstaff to visit a friend. On one occasion, I was returning home when a car with 4 Hispanics began harassing me. I slowed down and they slowed down. I sped up and they sped up. This continued for nearly 15 miles.
As I approached a stretch of road with a sharp drop-off on one side, the Hispanics pulled up alongside and began moving their car towards me. It was good weather and our windows were open and the guys in the car were yelling at the driver to run me over the cliff.
At that point, I had enough. I always traveled with a loaded handgun. In this case, it was a Ruger Super Blackhawk .44 Magnum. It’s an impressive handgun with a 7-inch barrel and weighed 3 pounds. I grabbed my gun, rested in on my elbow in the open window, looked at the guys in the car next to me, cocked the trigger and said ‘good-bye’. They hit their breaks and dropped so far behind me that I could no longer see them.
About 5 miles down the highway, I saw a highway patrolman at the side of the road and I pulled over and reported the incident to him. As we were talking, the car of Hispanics drive by and I pointed it out to the officer. He went after them and stopped them. I found out later that they were all illegals from Mexico and the car they were driving was stolen.
I knew had I not had my gun with me that day, that they would have run me off the road and over the cliff to my certain death.
In another incident, I was deer hunting with my three best friends. We were on horseback when suddenly a shot rang out and Roger’s horse went down, pinning his leg under his horse. This idiot with the worst case of buck fever I’ve ever seen, came running up to us yelling to get away from his deer – meaning Roger’s horse. The confused hunter began to point his rifle at JJ and threaten to shoot anyone trying to steal his deer. We tried talking to him and explaining it wasn’t a deer, but the guy kept threatening. Mike and I drew our handguns and I fired a shot in the air over the man’s head and ordered him to put his rifle down or I would drop him here he stood. He complied and we tied him up and took him into town where he was arrested. Yes, Roger’s horse was dead and Roger ended up with a broken leg. This crazy man was about to start shooting at us because he swore a horse with rider and saddle pack was his deer.
Yes, my gun saved my life and the lives of my friends. Had gun-control advocates had their way, I would not have been able to defend myself from the 4 illegals nor would we have been able to stop the deranged hunter from shooting JJ and the rest of us.
The problem in America today is not guns, it’s the people.