Trucker with a Gun

So back I went out to the country. The houses here were close enough together that you could see the next one, but not so close that you would call it a subdivision. I saw that a man had just pulled into his driveway with his pickup truck and was getting out. So I began my approach as I rolled up on my bike, “Hah there, Mr. Jones…. Mah name is Sue Fairvieew and Ave been callin..”

He cut me right off by saying in a loud stage voice, “Yeah, just a minute, I wouldn’t want to leave a loaded gun around where the kids might get it.”

And with that he turned and I could see that indeed he had a just taken a handgun out of the truck and now it was in both his hands pointed directly at me. I could smell the booze coming off of him from where I was standing. Oh great, armed and drunk. I went right back to my training as if by instinct.

“I know what you mean, Mr. Jones.” I said as I stared right at him and tried to maintain my calm.

A few moments that seemed like hours passed as he stared me down before he nodded seeing that he didn’t frighten me or get any reaction at all. He said, “Yup”, or something that clever, dropped the weapon to his side and went into the house. That was when I realized how close I had come to serious injury or worse and my knees started knocking. (I now know what that means). I only remember seeing the gun’s barrel. I didn’t remember seeing any kids around that day, even though it was nice and sunny.

I tried to sell him a book and wasn’t really disappointed when he didn’t buy. I was just grateful to be alive.