Many years ago, I was returning from a hike. When I got to my car, which was still miles from the nearest paved road, there were 8 guys sitting on it, drinking whiskey. They got off and started to surround me.
All I had was a 6 shot 22, which I pulled. Happily, none of them said, “8-6=2, we can take him!” In fact, I was able to get in my car and drive off without a shot fired.
Of course, those 8 were not Amish, so it might go down differently now.
Lesson learned: In the mid ‘70s, I returned home from a Sydney to San Fran DC-8 trip, followed by an all-nighter deadhead to Miami. Unbeknownst to me, the boys in Amish town had spent the previous two nights rioting. Half asleep, I jumped into the VW bus and headed for home up I-95.
There wasn’t much traffic on the road, so I opted to make a stop for a part I needed at the old Miami Bearing Company office - NW 5th Avenue and 54th St. Pulling in to their one-way-out gated parking lot, I woke up - as a group of 10-12 angry-looking young men inside the lot headed directly for me. I put the VW into reverse but quickly realized I couldn’t back straight out.
I reached for the glove compartment, stuck my hand inside, and waited. My message was clear - they instantly reversed direction, and I turned around at my leisure. I had nothing inside the compartment but a box of tissues. That changed.
Yeah, nobody seems to want to be one of the first six...