Cars and Guns

While driving down the road yesterday through the small little town where I live, my car's engine just went quiet and the car started floating instead of, well, driving. I quickly steered it into the nearest parking lot (we have 4 to choose from--feed store, post office, gas station, and gun store) and it came to a halt. Dead. Thank God it hadn't happened a few minutes earlier when I'd been on the highway. Enough about the damn car.

I took my 9 year old son inside the gun store, aka car magnet, to apologize for my car stuck in their lot, and got a whole lot more than expected. The store is apparently a hang out for gun connoisseurs -- there were five folks in there to entertain us.

Right off the bat, my son, with eyes as large as dinner plates, looks around at the many guns -- from hand guns and hunting rifles to AK47's -- and announces he's never seen a real gun before. Gee. Shucks. He was immediately steered to an impressive package that include a Red Ryder BB gun and all the accessories, including the bb's which can leave scars in your lower back (yes, I have one from my childhood).

I tried to explain that we don't own any guns, what with small kids, one of whom would surely find and shoot the gun the very first day, regardless of security measures -- the very kid gazing at the Red Ryder with lust in his young eyes. Now, I say, it's not that I'm against guns. My family in Michigan hunts and always had those sorts of guns around..but we don't hunt and we have KIDS around.

"Hmm," they seem to silently accuse "a bleeding heart liberal gun-shunner." Not far off the mark.

So, what does the very crafty, clever man do? He shows me the most beautiful 1850's flintlock dueling pistol -- just like what I'd researched for my Crimean War story! Suddenly, I had lust in my eyes. Then, just to make sure he drew me over to the dark side, he produces from the deep secret bowels of the store, an old eetsy beetsy Lady Derringer's pearl-handled Colt derringer. in its original felt-lined white box (with a picture of a lady on the lid).

OH. MY. GOD. I want that cute little gun. I could never shoot anyone. I wouldn't want the bullets or anything. But it was so CUTE. Am I sick and wrong?

Then dh showed up and shattered the moment, announced the car is in bad shape and will cost a freaking fortune to get repaired, and we moseyed on to our still gun-free home.