8. Pistol Packing Disasters

Pistol Packing Disasters is the continuation in a series of hubs in which I discuss my life of rebellion, dabbling in the Occult, drugs, crime and prison to life-changing conversion through Jesus Christ. Click here to read it from the beginning. In this hub, I will discuss experiences that I had with guns, most of them illegal, when I lived a criminal life.

I grew up shooting guns. My father would take me hunting with him at times; and at the young age of five years old I was already firing rounds. Two of the first guns I learned how to shoot were a .22 rifle and .22 pistol. My dad had this one .22 rifle that I was especially fond of. It was a 16 round pump action. It was like a little shotgun. I didn't shoot many animals in my hunting trips with Dad. More pine cones than anything else; but I sure had a lot of fun.

As I got older, I got to shoot a variety of guns and rifles, ranging from a Colt .45, .357 Magnun, Winchester 30-30, 12 gauge shotgun, a .248 deer hunting rife, and a .223 assault rifle. I grew quite fond of firearms; and that fondness would stay with me up until the point of my arrest for drug trafficking and gun possession.

Owning and carrying guns came with the territory of dealing drugs. The first gun that I bought as a drug dealer was a nickel plated .40 Ruger for $325. It wasn't stolen; but it wasn't registered either, because I was too young to register it. California law states that you have to be 21 years old to register a gun; and I was 20. This was the first of one of many guns I would acquire as a drug dealer.

Oddly enough, I could never seem to hold onto a gun. There was one or two I resold; but most of them ended getting lost or stolen. It was like God did not want me to play with guns and they would just slip through my fingers. It was really frustrating at the time; but I'm glad that it happened, now. At least I never killed anybody; although, I got close. Shots were fired. But that's another story.

I lost my .40 Ruger in a fire. I feel embarrassed writing about this. After chugging some beers with a neighbor of mine, we decided to test my gun out in a secluded place away from the city. We bought a fire log at the supermarket and drove out to the location. When we got there, we lit the fire log because it was late and dark. I think it was nearing midnight. We had a box full of ammo; but the only thing to shoot was an old tree; and we filled that thing full of holes.

By the time our ammo ran out, our fire log was still burning. I told my neighbor that we had to put it out; so he started kicking dirt on it. I began yelling at him to stop because there was dry grass in the dirt; but it was too late. Immediately, a fire broke out. We attempted to quickly stamp it out, but it was spreading too fast and it overcame our efforts; so we began to run away.

My car was about 40 yeards away from our secluded shooting range; and we were running downhill. Surrounded by thick darkness, I tripped and fell over a rock. After getting up, I noticed that my gun was missing from my waistband. I felt around for it but I couldn't find it; and the darkness of night made it impossible to see anything around me; so we continued running to my car.

There was a residence a short distance from my car. Having some feelings of guilt for starting the fire, I pulled into the driveway of the residence and got someone's attention to warn them of the fire. He was some kind of worker in a small guest house. Also, in my drunker stupor, I made one last ditch effort to run back and retrieve my gun. However, after a short run, I realized that the distance back was much greater than I had estimated and turned back. I didn't realize that, at the time, the guy in the guest house had taken down my license plate number. I got back to my car and sped away from the scene with my neighbor. Upon our getaway, we raced passed a fire truck on a narrow country road, speeding in the opposite direction.

To make a long story short, within a few days the fire department tracked me down. The fire was ruled an accident. There were no crimes charged against me. However, I didn't get my gun back, either. They said that it had been turned over to the ATF; and I would have to take it up with them if I wanted it back. Not to mention, they said that I was too young to legally own a gun, anyway; so I just chalked that up as a loss.

As my drug dealing activity intensified; I got used to carrying a gun on me at all times. I was paranoid. I had been robbed and shot at, and people were threatening my life. Drug dealing is a stressful and dangerous profession. I wouldn't go anywhere without a gun. There was a time when I was getting ready to go to this bar / club. I had my gun on me. At the time, it was a .380 pistol. However, when I drove by the building, I noticed that the bouncers at the entrance were wanding everybody at the waist with hand-held metal detectors. I got an idea, I'll put my gun in my sock. So I put my gun in my sock and got wanded and walked right into the building without a problem. Then, I made my way into the bathroom where I entered a stall and took my gun from my sock to my waistband.

I had this friend with me that got drunk and told me he needed my gun to handle some kind of problem he had with someone. He was so drunk that he actually lifted up my shirt and exposed my gun while I was standing under a bright light next to a pool table; and the place was full of people. I quickly pulled my shirt down and got angry at him. Nevertheless, one of the bouncers noticed something in my waist band and started heading my way. I saw trouble coming, so I began to quickly make my way for the door. Another bouncer attempted to block my exit; but the door was pretty big and I just sidestepped him.

Somehow, my drunk friend ended up outside of the bar, with me, asking me if he can borrow my gun, again, after all that had just transpired inside. I gave it to him. In my mind, I was thinking, Here. Take it. Just get the heck away from me. You're going to get me in trouble. After that, one of the bouncers from inside of the bar came outside looking for me. Just in time to see me through the passenger window of a car as I made my getaway. I got word the next day that a couple of girlfriends of my drunk friend took my gun away from him and threw it into a gutter because they were afraid that he was going to shoot someone.

There was another time when I bought this .40 HK Compact. That pistol was really nice. As it should have been for the $650 I paid for it. It didn't last very long, though. Can you believe that I actually lost it when I was getting jumped by two guys? Here I was, walking around with a big gun in my waist band, fully loaded with hollow point bullets with a pin in the middle, thinking that if anyone was going to mess with me, all I would have to do was bust a cap in them and my problem would be solved. Needless to say, it doesn't always work out that way.

I was at this house party, and two cousins of an enemy of mine were there too. I didn't even know that they were his cousins. I remember standing in the front doorway; and then the next thing I knew I was down on the ground. I got hit in the back of the head and taken down! I really didn't fell anything because my body was numb from all of the cocaine I had just snorted inside on the kitchen counter. However, as I was getting up from the ground after getting hit and reaching in my waistband to grab my gun, I came to the stark realization that my gun was missing.

I found out later that an onlooker of the assault had recovered it, only to sell it to someone else, later. I'm actually fortunate that that's the only thing that happened. If one of the guys that had jumped me would have recovered my pistol, they could have shot and killed me, with my own gun!

Last but not least, I was arrested with a gun. It was a .380 colt. Now, these are not the only bad experiences I have had with guns. I could think of at least three more guns that got stolen from me; but I think the experiences I have written about in this hub suffice. At the writing of this hub, I do not own any guns. Also, I live in Poland, Europe, where it is difficult and expensive to obtain a permit for a firearm, anyway; but I don't even feel the need for one. I put my trust in God for my protection, now.

Psalm 121:7-8 reads, "The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore." From my experience, that is true. Before I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior and I was living a life of crime, I was constantly having problems: getting jumped, shot at, having my life threatened, etc. Since I have become a Christian, I haven't been in any kind of physical altercation with anyone. It's been 10 years now; and I think that is really amazing.

In my next hub, I go into more detail about my drug use and life of crime as a drug dealer. Click on the link down below to read it.

9. Adolescent Criminal