By Tommy Y.
“I’ll only be out for a few minutes.” That’s what I said when I exited the house and jumped in the truck and realized that my firearm was still sitting on top of my office desk. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time I have said this, but this day would prove to be the last time I ever use that line as an excuse to not be armed . . .
Unlike most excuses for leaving a firearm behind, my excuse was different. It wasn’t because I felt that carrying a firearm was a burden or uncomfortable. It’s quite the opposite. My method of carry was too comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that I often don’t even feel that it’s there on my body—or not.
I had removed the firearm from my in-waistband holster while working on some designs and it was late in the day. I wanted to stretch a little and never thought to re-holster the firearm once it was removed.
Fast-forward a couple of hours later and now I’m ready to take a short break and I hadn’t eaten all day. Thinking about my stomach, I grabbed the keys and promptly exited the house to get whatever greasy fast food I was sure would quiet down the growls coming from my stomach at this point. It didn’t even cross my mind that I had forgotten to re-holster my firearm before exiting the house.
“I’ll only be out for a few minutes.”I said it again as I pulled out of the driveway. “Meh…” I thought afterwards. t’s not like I’m going to the wrong side of town or anything. Just a quick bite to eat and I’ll be back.
After a few minutes of driving, I noticed a male on the intersection. As I come to a slow stop, he approaches my passenger-side window. I ignore him thinking he’s just a panhandler asking for money, but this one felt different. Everything felt different.
As he approached my passenger-side door, he mutters some words about cigarettes, but then like a strike of lightning, he reaches for the door handle. Alarmed, I gave him a stern look and right when I was about to give a reactionary verbal lashing, I felt the back of my neck start to tingle. Something was very wrong.
At that very moment, a sixth sense kicked in and I was compelled to turn to my driver-side door. As I turned to my left, I watched as another male had successfully opened my door.The one thing I vividly still remember is the knife coming towards my face and the focused look on the attackers face. I remember deflecting the knife hand with my left hand and grabbing his hand and forcing it up to the cab of the vehicle.
In one smooth motion, my right hand sweeps up my shirt and motions towards what normally would be a GLOCK 23 at the ready at the 3 o’clock position. Instead, I was greeted by the cold hard reality of an empty holster.I’m pretty sure I blurted out an angry four-letter word at that moment. At first my mind was confused, but in an instant I replayed the exact moment I had removed my firearm earlier in the day.
Full story:
http://www.thetruthaboutguns.com/2014/0 ... l-minutes/
