True story. I was walking along a dirt road and a car with a couple of high school punks drove by, then stopped a few yards ahead, waited a second or two, then burned out, throwing all kinds of dust and crap at me. Being the diplomat I am, I flipped them off and kept walking. The car slammed on the brakes and then backed up to me and the occupants jumped out.
I was carrying a switchblade my brother had picked up during an excursion to Mexico. It was more of a novelty than a weapon. The blade was such junk steel it wouldn’t hold an edge and couldn’t cut compressed air, but I casually pulled it out as the pair of idiots rushed me. When they got close enough, I snapped the blade open and just stared at them. They stopped dead in their tracks and left faster than they came.
There is something pretty intimidating about a switchblade.
***The blade was such junk steel it wouldn’t hold an edge ***
Is there a penguin stamped on the blade? I’ve got one of those.
Grasping your holstered .45, but holding off on drawing, would be even more intimidating, as well as being more legal.