By Tim Ellwood
I used to work for a major gun company back at the turn of the century. My job as a regional sales manager consisted of driving around a three-state area, going to gun shops. (It sucked, but someone had to do it.) I had taken over the North Carolina,Virginia and Tennessee territory and moved to central North Carolina from Florida. I was in western North Carolina and had a meeting scheduled at a shop first thing in the morning. Best thing to do when you have a early meeting is to bring doughnuts . . .
I did not know the town, so I stopped in the first grocery store I saw. I thought I was ready for anything. I had 50 or so sample handguns in my company van and was armed to the teeth.
I had been to shooting schools, “gunfighter” schools, taught knife defensive classes and was still in pretty good shape then.
A model 25-5 6″ .45 Long Colt revolver sat in a shoulder rig under my left arm. A Sigma in .357 SIG was on my right hip and I had a 642 in my left pocket. All that was backed up up with a balisong custom next to my wallet and a Spyderco police model in my front pocket.
I was running a little late, so I blew into the store, grabbed the fat pills and headed to checkout. I then noticed the store was busy. No worries, I thought, as I reached back for my wallet to get ready to pay so I could make my appt on time.
BAM Something large and heavy hit me on my head. I didn’t go down but was stunned and I started to turn. BAM I see it coming this time but can’t get out of its way. It was about the size of a carry-on bag, brown and must of been filled with bricks.
This second smack put me on the ground, as I look up I see a huge muumuu-wearing lady who must have been in her late 50’s with a really nice hat on, winding up her gigantic purse to hit me again.
She is doing a fine job of calling me every name in the book, without using any swear words.
I was still stunned. My left hand went into pocket and my right was debating on if I need the penetration of the .357 SIG round or the big bullet from the .45.
From her tirade I gather that I had cut in front of her as we were heading for the checkout. More than likely, I did. I was in total condition white and just wanted to get out of there and get where I needed to be.
BAM Right in the chest, luckily my right arm was across it (as I decided I need a big bullet) and took most of the blow. I truly believe she was toting a gold bar in that bag.
The crowd by this time was egging her on and she was starting to cock her leg back to commence kicking me. I had been in a similar situation a few times before, one where you knew you were going to have to “go to guns” if you were planing to live to see the sunset that day. Everything slows down and I remember thinking, if I shoot grandma, I am not carrying enough bullets to get out of here alive.
The manager had come around the counter and was watching the altercation. I guess he saw the grip of the revolver as my numbed hand was reaching for it and decided to step between us. He helped me up, picked up my doughnuts and walked me to the door. Someone had restrained Grandma, or I am sure she would have followed me out and bashed me again with that bag that had to have had a medieval mace along with some concrete in it.
I was sore and bruised for two weeks. It took me a year before I would go into a grocery store again.
The take away:
Never go into a store without looking around.
Always keep you head on a swivel.
Always have more that 50 rds. of ammo on you.
Never ever cut in front of a older large women in the store…they will kill you.
A gun or a knife won’t solve everything. Sometimes, you just got to take the beating.
I got free doughnuts.