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Selling a car can present problems, too.

A couple of years ago, I was selling my mother's car, and two gentlemen of the Hispanic persuasion came by to look at it.

They seemed to like it, and one of them wanted to take it for a test drive.

Of course he could, but I told him I'd ride along to answer questions.

No, HE wanted to go by himself.

I told him he was welcome to drive it, but I was going to ride along.

No, HE insisted he was going to take it himself.

Went back and forth this way a couple of times. The two of them grew less polite, and I was called gringo, puta, and (I imagine) worse in Spanish before they left.

As their volume went up, it was quite comforting to be able to slip my right hand into the pocket of my cargo shorts and grip the S&W 340SC, knowing I was just 1/2 second away from BANG! if needed . . . nonetheless, I was very happy when they just left (cursing in Spanish all the time) rather than force me to use the revolver. (Ahhh, the virtues of pocket carry!)