I was only about 14 when a neighbor kid (our formerly all-white neighborhood was becoming mixed race in the mid-‘60’s) pulled a .22 rifle on me. He had been outside shooting at birds on an overhead wire and I went over and told him to put it back into his house. He pointed it at my stomach and told the gathering crowd of kids (we’d been playing ball in the street) “tell him how crazy I am! Tell him! Tell him I’ll shoot him! Tell him!”Sounds like a good way to get shot.
To many road rage shootings lately.
I was truly intimidated, I admit it.
So I turned my back on him as if to walk away and he turned to grin at his bro’ ….. and I spun around, grabbed that .22 and stuck the barrel down into the man-hole-cover and placed my right foot on the butt-stock and BENT that barrel 90-degrees. (the cast iron man hole cover had about a 1” hole cast in it)
It couldn’t be withdrawn from the man-hole and he had a job to get it out of the street before his father came home. I don’t know how he and his bro’ did it…but I expected his Dad to talk to my Dad about it that evening…. Nope. Nothing ever came of it.