Back when I ran an armored car service, I sometimes ran *chase car* escorts, using my 1965 Corvair [good traction with the engine in back, and at least some rear flank protection.] My little .45 Ingram M10 usually lived in the glove box, but when it had to go outside with me [usually multimillion dollar pharmaceutical deliveries; sometimes *jewelry jobs] it did so inside a $3.00 tin workman's lunchbucket.
In later days when I was working an even more potentially sporty job and I wasn't driving, a cutdown folding-stock 12-gauge shotgun or M79 grenade launcher accompanied me in a tennis racket bag.
Nowadays things are somewhat slower for me. But Idaho's not far from my Wyoming homestead, and if I ever need to visit one of their terrorist and criminal appeasing universities, I reckon I'll be okay.
