Monday, September 26, 2011
Speak Softly . .
I'm back from my little jaunt (sorry, no pictures as the camera had a dead battery and I'd tell you who I was with but then I'd have to kill you). Suffice to say a good time was had by all, with home crafted beer, Italian food, and a dessert involving homemade caramel cream sauce.
I was able to take a firearm with me for the solitary drive. I have a concealed carry permit for Ohio since it's recognized in many states, which has come in handy, since Indiana's is not. The last time I drove through the state to visit friends who live there, you couldn't carry at a highway rest stop, so I don't stop there. Face it, that "call police, emergency" blue light thing in the rest stops that flashes if I get to it before someone robs or rape mes, is as scary to most criminals as K-Marts blue light special.
Face it, in the wee hours, on a deserted highway 20 miles or more from the nearest cop, the criminal will be having a cigarette 10 miles away by the time armed help arrives. So instead of highway rest stops, I get coffee and a bathroom break at restaurants that aren't "gun free" for law abiding citizens. It's a comforting feeling, especially as a female traveling alone, getting back in my truck with my McCoffee and my Mc1911.
As I waved goodbye and headed out of the drive for the open highway back to Indiana, I was thinking about something else Mr. Roosevelt said, about "speaking softly and carrying a big stick".
I do carry a stick, a tool like many others I own. However this one is forged from the steel of eternal vigilance. - Brigid