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Like many of ya'll, there was not so much a conversion experience. Although my folks were hardcore lefties who were rabidly anti-gun, I saw the need for people to arm themselves, even as a kid. I'm extremely polite and peaceful, but some folks just won't leave me alone...

I had a lot of violent encounters growing up in a "peaceful" suburb in Calif. A mugging duo tried an ambush one night when I was walking home from college (I saw them first, watched as one stepped into the bushes off to the side, while the other blocked the sidewalk. I stepped into the street to go around them), then backed off when they saw the rattan sticks poking out of my backpack (I was taking a class 2 days/week, but carried them every day). A group of "yoots" attempted to block me and stop me on my bike one day. I grabbed one end of the heavy chain draped around my neck and chose the one I was going to hit. The group parted like the Red Sea. One of Berkeley's leading citizens attempted to push me into traffic when I was coming home from grad school on the bike. I dissuaded him with a U-lock. He backed off a moment before I was going to dent his skull with it. There were others, like the beating I took as a high school freshman that kept me out of school for a few days. My attacker just wanted to show off for his friends, so he picked me as a target. I found out later that he'd really hurt some other kids -- getting them on the ground and kicking them.

If there was one incident, it was the fine young fellow who choked me to near-unconsciousness in high school, trying to take my bike. Thank God he got scared and backed off, just as my vision was down to a pinpoint. He was a lot bigger than I was, and I tried to fight him off without any effect. Now I look back on that incident in horror at the feeling of utter helplessness I felt. I carried a homemade shank after that...a terrible choice of tool in retrospect, but it was what I could get, and I hadn't had much in the way of training at that point in life.

The most frightening was the night when a couple of local gentlemen attempted to kick in our front door in Las Cruces, NM. I was on the phone to the police (who drove down the street 30 min. later but didn't stop) with a .38 in the other hand, waiting in ambush for when the door failed. The gentlemen gave up before the door did. I was especially frightened for my wife, and I was determined to stop anyone who tried to come through the door.

I applied for a CHL as soon as I could after arriving in Texas, but we were targeted for a mugging the first afternoon we went downtown in our new hometown of San Antonio. I'd seen a skinny, nervous young man waaaay across a parking lot, just before we went into a stairwell down to the Riverwalk. It's an enclosed stairwell, and as we took the first step down, we saw large gentleman step into our path, below us. I looked back and started to turn around, but the skinny guy had sprinted to appear behind us. I grabbed the sliding utility knife in my pocket (everything was still in boxes, so I didn't have my Schrade Sharpfinger with me at the moment). My hand never left my pocket, but I was deciding how I was going to do maximum damage to the large gentleman so that Ana would have a chance to escape. I guess he saw my hand and realized that I was going to use something, because he rapidly backed off, and we got out of there.

I've enjoyed the other posts in this thread. As always, it's a learning experience for me.

Respectfully,
Dirty Bob