28 October 2010, 19:44 p.m. around 4759-4799 Prospect Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90027, heading east in a red 2005 Cadillac CTS-V, about to turn left on N. Vermont Ave following an LA Metro 180/181 bus, followed by a Toyota sedan. All windows in my car are down, Nick Cave’s “John Finn’s Wife” blaring out. A stocky tattooed skinhead runs up to the driver’s door and reaches inside:
—Let me in, let me in, they’re going to shoot me!
—What do you think I’m going to do with this?
(This is my SIG P49 with its hammer cocked and safety off, held across my chest aimed at his sternum.)
—Let me in, let me in!
I thrust the gun into the window:
—Don’t repeat yourself. Fight or run.
The spaz staggers back and slows down long enough for me to follow the Metro bus up Vermont.
Lesson taught: An unarmed carjacker in Hollywood goes home empty-handed.
Lesson learned: Pack a big gun. I’d rather drive away than shoot an unarmed man. To that end, I wouldn’t have wanted to back up my commands with anything smaller than a service pistol.