Like a large order of fries with that coffee sir?
Posted on 07/22/2016 5:39:06 AM PDT by Travis McGee
That's why I mentioned the soft guitar gig bag. Muscians come in all ages shapes and sizes, Willie Nelson, Charlie Daniels and so on.
In fact at age 68, 3 or 4 times a month three of us old geezers, health willing, get together to see if we can find a fourth chord. Raggedy old concert decals and such stuck on a soft Washburn gig bag with a dark black/green Vee Anarchy electric is my carry luggable for the short bus ride or to the car without neighbors clutching their chests if they knew about the rifle it carried at times.
In fact, they're grateful to see me leave with it. How's that for camo? ;>)
And after the initial attack, the PTB in DC wrote off the entire mission, not knowing if an Alamo massacre was in progress, refusing to send available outside help.
Trav, yes indeed, nice article and tips and tricks in the commentary here. Many in Munich would have benefitted from Orlando Carry today. I also keep tactical cutlery and writing instrument handy.
Is it possible to make an actual functioning day planner that does the job, maybe?
Why was it posthumous?
Great idea, I remember speaking about it....
My favorite “deep concealment carry” is a small Rohrbaugh R9, 9mm that I seal in a food saver vacuum bag w 2 pre cut tears so I can open it fast, I put it in my yeti insulated cup of “bulletproof” hot coffee .......used to carry the yeti with a seecamp 32 in same packaging. 9mm better than 32 ....:o) Seecamp has a different hide.
Stay Safe
I might look a little strange with that bikini bottom but hey I’d probably draw less attention these days
.....”, but it will probably happen at a time where you are not expecting it.
Almost always.....
Dang! That’s excellent! It is as you say, however, for “deep cover”.
The vacuum food saver bags suck all the air out so zero floatation in either bag, hell I think Glocks itty bitty .380 42 or 43 9mm might be able to ride comfortably in a big size bubba mug full of cold soda and crushed ice. The food saver bags I use are the heavy duty “boil in bag” grade. Smallest handguns that come to mind are as stated, Seecamp, Rohrbaugh R9, Remingtons new Rm380 (((clone of Rohrbaugh))), Beretta 21, Glock 42 in 380 ..... all good candidates for a road trip / office coffee mug .
Stay Safe !!!
Like a large order of fries with that coffee sir?
Was offered a new NFA/Class III, Mac 10 the other day by my local dealer ....NEW, never fired, 8000$ ....:o)
Great picture Bub..... nice. Yeah Rohrbaugh sold out to Remington who makes currently his little design in 380 only. Rm380 but the Rm9 is allegedly in the works .....
The range day last week included my Walther PPK/S, the Rohbaugh R9, the Remington clone of “a” Rorhbaugh with their Rm380 and a Glock 42. Albeit considered a “belly gun” fired em all at 7 and 25 yards standing and from a shooting bag rest off a bench. Walther’s PPK/s won the accuracy, Glock won in reliability, Remingtons Rm380 clone of the Rohrbaugh design came in third....
Seecamp produces a 380 now, for a few years in fact, so ordered one ...... will add that to my pile of .380’s .
Stay Safe
he continued to deliver the fire of his skillfully improvised weapon at a tremendous rate of speed which rapidly exhausted his ammunition. Undaunted, he removed his helmet and shoes to expedite his movements and ran back to the beach for additional ammunition, making a total of 8 trips under intense fire and carrying or assisting a wounded man back each time.
Later in the day, although his weapon was twice shot from his hands, he personally covered the withdrawal of his platoon to the company position
He ran himself out of ammo nine times, had his gun shot out of his hands twice, and, being a Marine, he did not quit nor would he run out on his fellow Marines. And, it being Iwo Jima:
Stein was wounded during the fight for Suribachi and evacuated to a hospital ship. Meanwhile, his regiment advanced up the west side of the island until reaching the strongly defended Hill 362A, where they took heavy casualties. When Stein heard of this, he left the hospital ship and returned to his unit. On March 1, he was killed by a sniper while leading a 19-man patrol to reconnoiter a machine gun emplacement which had Company A pinned down. Thanks, Marine. Semper Fi.
I understand completely. No pic needed, thank God.
I was once on the southbound lane of a divided 4-lane when a northbound flatbed loaded with phone poles blew the passenger side front tire. It pulled the driver off to the righthand side, into a concrete-lined drainage ditch heading downhill about 200 yards right to a two-meter square concrete drain collection box; I'd guess he was running about 45mph when he hit it, all brakes locked up.
After we finished dodging toothpicks- only a couple made it to our side- my partner jumped on the radio to the state police office about 10 miles south and had 'em roll EMS and get some traffic help up too us and start slowing everything down, I grabbed our first aid jump kit, carried in an Army ALICE rucksack, and headed for the truck, expecting to find a dead driver. Nope, as soon as I popped the door, he told me *You'll have to undo my seat belt, when the wheel spun it broke both my thumbs.* I got him out, helped him up the hill to where the Staters were just pulling up, and his transport arrived shortly. The tire that blew was a new one with less than 200 miles on it, and I remembered I still like fast bikes better than big trucks.
But everything I saw that day lines right up with what you said. And it does not necessarily take a very big gunjh or terribly good shot to let the air out of one of those front tires.
The problem lies with what comes next, whether the truck contains a potentially noisy or poisonous load, or if the ill-intentioned driver possesses additional equipment with which to cause more problems. Nevertheless, shutting off or limiting his/her mobility seems to be a good starting place.
80,000 lbs loaded with anything and traveling anywhere but in its own lane is a serious hazard to everyone on the road.
I blew a left front tire one night about 1:00AM on I-20 in Mississippi. I Thank God for the low traffic volume because I had no control over the truck when it headed for the median which dropped down about twenty feet into a gully. Nice to prevent head on collisions but that night it was the last thing I wanted to see. I was barely able to guide it back toward the center of the highway after I had shoved the dash in with my left knee. And here I thought Peterbilt trucks were solidly built.LOL Eventually I got it over on the right hand shoulder and used the trailer brakes to bring it to a stop. It took about fifteen minutes of rocking back and forth to get my butt to release its death grip from the leather seat cover.
Thanks.
It was that last paragraph I was missing. It looked like he did a lot of crazy-courageous stuff and was generally unscathed himself.
...then Earl took out a match and scratched his pants and lit up the unused half of a dollar cigar and took a puff. Says "My, ain't this purty up here!"
I says, "Earl, this hill can spill us. You better slow down or you gonna kill us. Just make one mistake and it's the Pearly Gates for them eight-five crates a' USDA-approved cluckers. You wanna hit second?"
[Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the Great Divide;
Truckin' on down the other side...
Well, Earl grabbed on the shifter and he stabbed her into fifth gear and then the chromium-plated, fully-illuminated genuine accessory shift knob come right off in his hand. I says, "You wanna screw that thing back on, Earl?"
He was tryin' to thread it on there when the fire fell off a' his cigar and dropped on down, sorta rolled around, and then lit in the cuff of Earl's pants and burned a hole in his sock. Yeah, sorta set him right on fire.
I looked on outta the window and I started in a-countin' phone poles, goin' by at the rate of four to the seventh power. Well I put two and two together, and added twelve and carried five; come up with twenty-two thousand telephone poles an hour.
I looked at Earl and his eyes was wide, his lip was curled, and his leg was fried. And his hand was froze to the wheel like a tongue to a sled in the middle of a blizzard. I says, "Earl, I'm not the type to complain; but the time has come for me to explain that if you don't apply some brake real soon, they're gonna have to pick us up with a stick and a spoon."
Well, Earl rared back, and cocked his leg, stepped as down as hard as he could on the brake, and the pedal went clear to the floor and stayed there, right there on the floor. He said it was sorta like steppin' on a plum.
Well, from there on down it just wasn't real purdy: it was hairpin county and switchback city. One of 'em looked like a can full'a worms; another one looked like malaria germs. Right in the middle of the whole damn show was a real nice tunnel, now wouldn't you know?
Sign says clearance to the twelve-foot line, but them chickens was stacked to thirteen-nine. Well we shot that tunnel at a hundred-and-ten, like gas through a funnel and eggs through a hen, and we took that top row of chickens off slicker than scum off a Lousiana swamp. Went down and around and around and down 'til we run outta ground at the edge of town. Bashed into the side of the feed store... in downtown Pagosa Springs....
Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the Great Divide, Truckin' on down the other side,
Wolf Creek Pass, way up on the Great Divide,
Truckin' on down, the other side!
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