I just completed a trip to NYC. My last, I think, for the forseeable eternity. I was flying out but driving back. Since I flew, I couldn’t take any guns with me without causing a buncha headaches. But…where there’s a will, there’s a way.
A neighbor was helping me move furniture and I noticed he had a spare pistol mag on his belt. Hmm. I watched him a bit more and, sure enough, on his left hip there was a bulge under his sweater. Ok, time to start giving the signs and countersigns that I, too, am of the Brotherhood of The Gun.
“Whats that a spare magazine to?”
“Oh, thats for my VP9.”
“Oh, you’re a gun guy?”
“Yeah, I do handgun instruction at a range and shop about a mile from here….”
And after talking guns with him long enough for me to realize he’s a gun person, and long enough for him to realize I’m a gun person, the ice was broken and the fun began.
“I’M a dealer from out of state. I’m looking for something for the ride back to Montana. Have anything cheap and used in stock?”
“Well, I think we have a Taurus snubbie..”
“Any .38 ammo?”
“No.” Pause. “I can bring you five rounds from home, though.”
And thats exactly what we did. I showed up at the shop the next day, pulled a copy of my FFL out of my phone, and wound up with this:

Junk on the bunk
A Taurus snubby, Ruger LCP, and a genuine NYPD Gen2 G17 complete with the utterly horrendous NY-1 trigger. Makes a staplegun look like a Hammerli. Then, after the paperwork was done and my wallet was lightened, me, him, two fo the other clerks, and an off-duty cop stood around jawboning about guns for 45 minutes.
Oh, and they literally went through their desk drawers and gave me all their loose ammo…..”For the trip”. Some dinosaur stuff……38 RNHP Nyclads, Gen 1 Glasers (I mean early, early, early Glasers), miscellaneous .380 and .38 ammo, etc. And they threw in a 15-rd Glock mag because they can’t sell it to NYC residents, and kicked in a box of PMC 9mm ball as a way of apologizing for the $80 in sales tax that I was charged.
And then…I simply walked out the door with my purchases. In Westchester NY.
One of the few perqs of having an FFL.
But…this is how my tribe, The People Of The Gun, operate. Once its established that you really are a genuine ‘gun guy’ and not some Call Of Duty poseur whose entire gun knowledge comes from Stallone movies and video games….well, gun guys look out for each other.
So, I’ll be sending a thank you package of some Montana goodies, some .22LR (which they were out of), and a couple ten-round Glock mags that are about as useful in Montana as a 2 cu. ft. beer fridge.
That was the entire highlight of what was otherwise a long and exhausting trip.
But…I made gunbuddies behind enemy lines! Told them to come out here sometime and we’d do a whole suppressed, full-auto, high-capacity, short-barrelled extravaganza that would make Charlie Schumers head spin in a fit of liberal outrage.
People of The Gun, man. Thats my tribe.
And…I would bet that most of you have a similar story. Some time when you were doing something, encountered another guy who had some indicator he was a gun guy, struck up a conversation, and the next thing you know he’s helping you change a flat tire or youre helping him unload roofing from his truck.