In the early 1970s, fresh out of in-country service in Viet Nam, I used to mail bills and do night deposits for dad's business. This was late at night and I'd take my M1911A1 Colt along for the ride. The main post office was near a whole block of bars and honkey tonks across the railroad tracks several blocks south.
One summer night, I decided to go home through the seedy section of town. It had been a hot day and it was a Friday or Saturday night — I knew the bars would be packed and jumping — so I made sure the doors were locked and windows were up (as if I had air conditioning).
I cruised into the bar district that was on both sides of the street for three blocks before my left turn across the bridge and home. As usual, there we a lot of folks standing about outside the bars — probably negotiating “dates”. I slowed and stopped for the light that changed from yellow to red. I took a quick look around and locked eyes for a second with one guy who was leaning a against a building. I thought nothing about it and turned my attention to the light.
The next thing I knew the same guy I noticed was standing at my door trying to open it (I'd locked it). I held onto the steering wheel with my left hand and brought up the .45, cocking the hammer as I did, with my right. My visitor was now face-to-face with the end of the pistol about six inches in front of his face. His jaw flopped open, eyes got big as saucers, and he did the fastest 180 degree turn I'd ever seen. He took about three giant steps (or so it seemed) to recross the street and disappear into the bar. The light turned green and I got out of there. I'd like to think he'd gotten a bad laundry problem from his experience.
Like Tim Patterson, no shooting occurred and the perp decided to flee rather than force the issue. He didn't want to take a chance on being dead and I didn't want to shoot him (the shot would have taken out the driver's window at minimum and would have deafened me, plus the legal hassles). I was glad to see him break the encounter and run, but if he'd gotten more aggressive I'd have shot him.
Good story. I’m glad you didn’t have to shoot. Not only would it have deafened you but that close to your face you might have caught something in the eyes. More likely with a revolver I suppose but... potentially bad. Sometimes that’s what has to be done though.