ModernTechnician
member
- Joined
- Oct 21, 2006
- Messages
- 13
Thomas DA only (now, that’s an SA isn’t it guys!) in .45ACP
Came a time when I abandoned sanity for wonderlust and I wound up working for the Ministries de la Justice in Mexico. I had picked up the blue Thomas .45 in a gunshow in Sierra Vista AZ. and I believe that was the only commerce taking place at that event! The thing had a hell of a whallop but the sights were right on (at 20 yards,) for the CCI Lawman 200 grain JHC that everyone nicknamed flying trashcans back then - for their gaping hollow cavity. (It looked like a hammerless Walther PPK on steroids.)
A young kid working the shows for Galco (former Jackass Leather,) found me a left handed vertical shoulder rig for it with a double magazine pouch offsetting the weight on the other side. Was a real sight to behold!
While drinking in the atmosphere of a bar in Jalisco, a few compadres from Guadalajara zeroed in on me and took up a hovering pattern determined to ruin my plans for the evening. One of the pests committed the mortal sin of flipping my jacket aside to expose the aforementioned .45 in it’s comfy home. The chirping and clucking that ensued about ruined the headache that I was working on, pissing me off!
One hombre asked to see it and I informed him no by reciting the Mexican slang word for death, which put a damper on their little tea party and they regrouped down the bar, slobbering something about the gringo and panties in knots.
As you would expect the girls couldn’t let it lie and some firearms genius produced a Lorcin .32 automatic and proclaimed it a match. The more observant piss-ant of the group laughed and gave no quarter to the Sherlock wanna-be, sighting that there was an obvious disparity in caliber. Where upon the L-32 holder shoved the pistol towards the doubting Thomas’s face and accidentally sent a 74-grain full patch projectile into our hero’s cheek knocking out a few teeth in the process! The melee that ensued led to many black eyes, sore knuckles, consumption of blue agave, pissing in corners and not a few really good face slaps by indignant Senoritas in that locale!
Ah what a night! I do wish however, that I could remember what became of my underwear! Now that would be a story!
Came a time when I abandoned sanity for wonderlust and I wound up working for the Ministries de la Justice in Mexico. I had picked up the blue Thomas .45 in a gunshow in Sierra Vista AZ. and I believe that was the only commerce taking place at that event! The thing had a hell of a whallop but the sights were right on (at 20 yards,) for the CCI Lawman 200 grain JHC that everyone nicknamed flying trashcans back then - for their gaping hollow cavity. (It looked like a hammerless Walther PPK on steroids.)
A young kid working the shows for Galco (former Jackass Leather,) found me a left handed vertical shoulder rig for it with a double magazine pouch offsetting the weight on the other side. Was a real sight to behold!
While drinking in the atmosphere of a bar in Jalisco, a few compadres from Guadalajara zeroed in on me and took up a hovering pattern determined to ruin my plans for the evening. One of the pests committed the mortal sin of flipping my jacket aside to expose the aforementioned .45 in it’s comfy home. The chirping and clucking that ensued about ruined the headache that I was working on, pissing me off!
One hombre asked to see it and I informed him no by reciting the Mexican slang word for death, which put a damper on their little tea party and they regrouped down the bar, slobbering something about the gringo and panties in knots.
As you would expect the girls couldn’t let it lie and some firearms genius produced a Lorcin .32 automatic and proclaimed it a match. The more observant piss-ant of the group laughed and gave no quarter to the Sherlock wanna-be, sighting that there was an obvious disparity in caliber. Where upon the L-32 holder shoved the pistol towards the doubting Thomas’s face and accidentally sent a 74-grain full patch projectile into our hero’s cheek knocking out a few teeth in the process! The melee that ensued led to many black eyes, sore knuckles, consumption of blue agave, pissing in corners and not a few really good face slaps by indignant Senoritas in that locale!
Ah what a night! I do wish however, that I could remember what became of my underwear! Now that would be a story!
