Sometimes, guns are used as tools beyond shooting someone or some animal. Back in North Dakota, I rode out one hell of a storm that lasted for most of the night. It snapped telephone poles in two, brought down huge trees, rolled over a lot of campers and trailers, killed whole herds of livestock, and tore a few homes apart. In one of those homes, a father used a shotgun to blast a hole in the basement door to equalize the pressure and save his family. If he didn't have that shotgun, he and his family would've probably died. His home was destroyed, but his family survived with only minor injures, all thanks to a shotgun in the hands of a quick-thinking civilian.
I sleep better knowing I have a rifle nearby. I do keep the rounds in a separate case from where I keep the rifle. In fact, I have my rifle's chamber open and locked up, which is what I'll do with every firearm I own. But it's good to know that if someone breaks into my house, I have something to protect myself beyond a knife and my fists. I won't have to pray that the good guys with guns will rescue me in time. I can protect myself effectively until the cops arrive. There's a law in Colorado called the "make my day" law, which gives homeowners the right to shoot intruders who enter their home.
When I was seven years old, living in a nice neighborhood, some teenagers were breaking into cars in the night, stealing the garage door openers, and going into people's houses during the day. They targeted houses of those they assumed were not armed. At the time, Clarke (my brother's dad, and who I call my stepdad) put a couple of Smith and Wesson stickers on his truck and the garage door. He had a pistol safe nailed to the floor under the bed. While our car got robbed, our garage door opener was left alone, and our house was safe. The teens eventually broke into the house of a woman while her marine son was home. Needless to say, justice was served, and the teens were taken to a hospital in handcuffs. If my stepdad didn't openly advertise that he was armed, I'm pretty sure our house would've been robbed like so many on our block were.
I later moved to a neighborhood called Green Valley Ranch, which I jokingly call Ghetto Valley Ranch. It wasn't uncommon to hear gunshots in the day and night. Drug busts and SWAT raids were pretty common. My mom had our packages delivered to her office rather than our house, since our packages would be stolen almost immediately. And our neighbors down the street were targeted in a drive-by shooting. That was the only house my mom let my stepdad leave one of his rifles in. It was a little bolt-action 22, but it was something. As soon as we moved, my mom gave Clarke his rifle back, and our house has been active gun-free since.
