"I Don't Gotta Gun"
On a warm spring afternoon, the shop was busy with jobs. It was just
another day, working the hours away 'til it was quitting time, just like any
other day. Why, even the phone seemed to have a pleasant “ring” that day.
My wife, Le Ann, was in the office working on the daily office paper work.
Myself, I was in the shop turning wrenches and humming to the always
constant radio in the background.
The shop was busy and things were going along without a hint of
trouble, it was a storybook day of blissful repairs. I even stopped for a
moment to reflect on the wonderful day that it was… “Ah, it’s a fine day, a
fine day indeed.” Why nothing could bother me today.
It’s about then I looked outside at the street in front of the shop.
Hmm, police cars… 2 of them, driving slowly. Then in the far distance
I could hear more cars coming this way, sirens blazing away. I looked
back just in the nick of time to see the 2 squad cars that were in front of
the shop tear down the street at high speed. Then 2 more came from
the opposite direction, slowing down just in front of the shop. I walked
towards the garage door just as a figure flew by me. This guy was on
a flat out run for the furthest point away from those cop cars. You should
have seen it; those cops were on this guy like a swarm of bees. The guy
ducked around the corner with the cop cars in full pursuit. He didn’t stand a chance.
Where’s the wife, I need to go tell her about all of this… why this is exciting… wow, I can’t wait to tell her. As I reached for the door knob to the front lobby my wife was already opening the door. She was so frantic she could hardly speak.
“How could you leave me up here all by myself? Didn’t you hear me banging on the wall! I could have been killed,” gasping for breath as if it were her last.
“Calm down honey,” I said, “It was nothing. Nothing at all, did you see that guy, and the cop cars?”
“Nothing! What do you mean NOTHING!” shouting at me, “This guy comes in all sweaty, sits down in the lobby chair, and tells me he just needs a rest. Then tells me he wants to give himself up, and wanted me to call the cops. There he is sitting there holding his shirt up and tells me “I don’t gotta gun”. What was I suppose to do…? I called the cops and kept banging on the wall trying to get you to come up front.”
“Holy cow, dear,” I stood there in shock answering her, “Why didn’t you come and get me?”
“Ya Big Baboon! I was on the phone! Who do you think was calling for all these cop cars,” she screamed at me.
Her voice kept getting louder, and she was a total emotional wreck, but continued to tell me, “I couldn’t move, I had to talk to the cops, give them a description and the address, they kept telling me to stay on the line. I wanted to run out of there. The guy was out of breath and he didn’t look like he had an ounce of strength left. I tried banging on the wall thinking you would show up any minute. But, when this guy heard the sirens he took off again.”
It’s about then I understood the seriousness of the “gangster in the lobby”, my poor wife was terrified. There was no way she was going to spend another minute up front without some way of getting our attention in the back of the shop.
That afternoon I rigged up an $8, 12 volt door bell from the hardware store with a 2 prong turn signal flasher from a car. Now if someone comes in the flasher causes the door bell to “ding”, “ding”, “ding” till the door closes. If the door buzzer doesn’t shut off in its usual pattern… drop the tools and run to the front... wife needs me.
This crude door bell set up has been a part of our shop since that day. I’ve changed the flasher two or three times since then… but not the bell, I’m guessing it’s about 15 years old by now, but it still works perfectly. I also installed a louder bell with an emergency button in several locations just in case the first “ding” didn’t get my attention.
I’m sure, if I hadn’t installed the door dinger that afternoon, I may have been spending a lot of sleepless nights on the couch. As they say… when one door closes another one opens…this time I can hear it open......... thanks to a dingy bad guy with no gun.
Love ya honey … and yes it’s still true… it don’t get no better.
(Note from Le Ann: I really wasn't as hysterical as my imaginative husband proclaims! Scared spit-less yes, hysterical...ummm, No.)