I was filling my rental car with gas in a well-lighted four-island gas station around 9:15 PM one April evening. There were no other cars on the street or in the parking area. I had just completed an indoor IDPA Match at the Bullet Stop. I loaded my Glock 35 .40 caliber with 15 rounds when I got into my car in the range parking lot. I have a Texas Conceal Handgun License, which is reciprocal with Kansas.

As I was pumping gas, a car turned into the station with the driver’s side window down. The driver was talking loudly as he passed my car. He turned into my same pump row on the opposite side. He got out of his car and started telling me how he was new in town from LA, just got a job, and blurted out a lot of other incoherent items. He had no intention of filling up his car with gas. He was interested in me.

I am 60 years old, over weight, and stand a strapping 5’4”. This guy was around 6’5”, 185 pounds, in great shape, and approximately 30 years old. As he continued to jabber, I changed the gas pump to my weak hand with my gun side canted toward my car. After a few more seconds of incoherent nonsense, I asked what he wanted. At that point he stepped up onto the raised portion of the island within 6 feet of me. He said he wanted me to fill his car with gas (at $3.10 a gallon). I told him that wasn’t going to happen as I looked for an escape route along the side of my car and placed my strong hand on my gun handle under my concealment vest. I had decided if I had to fire, I would hold the gun tight to my side and empty the gun while I was retreating along the side of the car (I only had lead bullets reloaded for IDPA Matches).

He took another step toward me and I said, “Stop right there!” with a commanding voice as I let go of the gas pump and held up the palm of my weak hand. This appeared to startle him and he did indeed stop dead in his tracks. He had a very surprised look on his face as I examined his hands looking for a weapon. Keeping my hand up with an aggressive posture (right hand still on the gun, knees bent slightly ready to draw) I blurted out with authority, “You don’t need what I got and I don’t need what you got. Get back in your car and drive out of here!”

He pondered what I said as if he was thinking, “Wait a minute; I am supposed to be the aggressor.” After a few seconds, with a puzzled look in his glassy eyes, he turned, got into his car and drove out of the station.
A couple of months later during another visit, I learned there had been several robberies in that station at night. There was a strong possibility I would have been another victim.

My gun gave me the confidence to talk to him with authority in my voice. I never had to show him my weapon. Thank God and the State of Kansas!

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I was filling my rental car with gas in a well-lighted four-island gas station…