A wheel gun is good enough

The debate always rages, what weapon is enough for you to defend yourself? Popular thinking go along two lines, the first being caliber selection, and the second is bullet capacity. Mind you I used to get into these arguments "Oh I need a big bullet to stop somoene" Well that is true, and then the "Oh I need lots of ammo so I do not run out" the later relies on the absolute most extreme circumstance, which is very very rare and only really popular in hollywood. Nevertheless, I fell for it.

So I started out carrying a full sized glock .45. I lugged the beast around all the time, and mind you, It was ok.
A few years later I decided I wanted a something smaller, a bit more versatile in the carry factor.
I fell upon simplicity in its utmost, and grabbed a snub nosed .38 special for a couple reasons, one it was small, could be carried concealed in more areas of my person, and last while the .38 has not proven to be the greatest man stopper ever, it was however a choice for hit men for years, as well as proven that people who have less bullets, tend to be more accurate and have a higher hit/kill ratio, so why not?

Do to its smaller size I would end up carrying it often, far more often than the big Glock. It would also be the pistol which would end up in the glove compartment and would be next to my bed more often than not. I loved the fact I did not have to worry about a spring weakening with time, jams or clearing the chamber of the semi auto each evening when I got home. It also had the added benefit of not mashing the bullet down in the shell with each time a bullet is a chamber, which of course can lead to dangerous high chamber pressures. So it just would be the one.

I did what I do with every firearm I own, I practiced, practiced and practiced. I would practice pulling it from every single location which I carried it, practicied hitting accurately, and practiced reloading it quickly. I found that I was able to reload the revolver as fast, or faster than most people who are attempting to change a magazine in their semi auto.

Years have passed and thankfully, never been used for its intended purpose of defense. In that time frame I learned something else, with the advent of Youtube I could watch vidoes of attacks, and I would find that almost always when someone pulled the trigger, the bad guy would most often run, sometimes after only a brief exchange of gunfire.

Gone was the myth of the perp who would not stop, gone was the need for a massive caliber able to blow a hole in the side of an elephant, and gone was the need for massive magazine capacity. While I understand the later may indeed be needed, let us be realistic, we are not carrying for combat, we are carrying for self defense against most likely petty thugs. Even if a worse case scenario of a mass shooter it still is more than enough as several shooters have been stoppped by civilian weapon holders usually without even having to fire a shot.
So yea, in the end a wheelgun is enough, it is in all reality all we need for for carry, and likely home defense.

Just what does a Marine do after rolling his Semi truck into a pond? Chill out

There he is, Micheal former Iraq decorated war hero gone stateside trying to earn a living feeding his family.

For the past couple of years he has been working in the Balkan oil patch driving water truck, a couple of nights ago however it would almost be his last.

Mike would be driving two hours from civilization in the middle of fucking no where north Dakota when he would slip off the side of a road and roll his Kenworth into a pond.
Now most people at this point would be happy just to survive a roll over, but Mike, wits about him realized he had to act as water inched in.
He crawled through the window but quickly realized do to the ice, he was trapped, so he did what any clear thinking man would do, crawl back into the truck and try to keep his head above water, literally.

For the next eight hours Mike would use his Marine training to keep himself alive in the Balmy 10 degree weather, thats right, ten fucking degrees. He focused on a goal, which would be his family, kept his legs moving to try and keep the blood flowing, and did his best to keep the demons from creeping into his head and ending the game right there and then.

It was bound to happen, late at night or not, but someone had to come along, well not exactly late at night, at least depending on your definition but his company would come along in the early morning hours and see the truck partially submerged in the pond.

Like a good movie, the story starts to end here, the cavalry would come, get him out of the truck, where he would get ride in a white van with cherries on top to the nearest real hospital in no where North Dakota. To everyone's surprise Mikes core temperature would never drop below 94 degrees, almost Buddhist monk legendary status right there my friend.
The hospital would determine he was doing well, nothing would be amputated and he would only suffer horrible pain in his hips as he thawed out, but noon he was released.

Mike being the kick ass guy that he is, wanted to go back to work, his boss is making him take the weekend off.

Mike, its hard for me to write this, as in my mind you are still the little boy standing outside the house waving as I drive off with your sister, but hell Bro, I know you grew up into a bad ass that has lived a bad, or good life of adventure, depending on how one looks at it.

Keep going strong, some day far into the future your grand kids will be sitting on your lap thinking its all just stories, you will just smile and wink, that is all that is needed.