Homeland Security, Pistols, Ammo and Hives

A week after my father’s funeral in Texas it was decided that I would take his truck back with me to Oregon. I flew my oldest daughter into DFW airport so that she could make the long road trip with me.


When we left Texas, my brother had loaded my mother's .38 revolver (the one she never got to shoot before she died) with hollow points for me. I have a concealed handgun license, so no biggie to carry it with me in the truck. Karli and I were on our way. We were looking forward to being on the road alone with no distractions to keep us from reflecting on losing my father and her grandfather so soon after my mother had been killed.

When we were about 600 or 700 miles into the trip I looked into the bottom part of the console, the place my dad had used as a cooler, and it was filled with ammo. Cool. My brother took care of me and we'll be just fine on our trip.

Well not so fast cowgirl. Karli and I were on the road to Las Vegas VIA the Hoover Dam. There was a traffic advisory so we tuned in to the suggested station and learned that all cars were subject to thorough searches due to tightened security at the dam because of terrorist threats.



Then I remembered that I had a loaded handgun and a shit load of ammo, and my CHL was in my other wallet..........in OREGON. Who would have thought that I would have needed it at my Dad's funeral?

Then the realization that I have an Oregon driver's license, I’m driving a truck with Texas plates that belongs to a man I claim is my father that died hit my square between the eyes. By this time Karli is so freaked out that she's getting hives and she's in a complete panic. Beads of sweat were beginning to form around her forehead and make their way down around the curves of her face.



I called my brother to ask him to look up the concealed gun laws in Arizona and Nevada. Well they both have reciprocity with Oregon....if I had my CHL on me.

Joel said to unload the gun and put it in the in the back of the truck. Cool. Well not really. About that time 2 highway patrol cars pulled up behind us. Karli's about ready to crap in her pants now. She's visibly trembling and wanting to know if they'll hold her as an accomplice or let her go. I told her that she's only as good as the company she keeps. In other words, if I go down, she goes down! There was no way we could stop and put the gun in the covered bed. We kept going.



We finally pull up to the check point after what seemed like hours.  I push the gun into its case and push the case a little further down between the seat and the console. The officer saunters up to the truck and tells me that I need to get out of the vehicle. Well, Holy Freaking Shit! We're going to jail.



He asked me to open the bed cover of the truck so he could search it. My hand was shaking so much I could hardly get the key in the lock. He pokes around for a few seconds and then tells me I could go. I walk back to the front of the truck, get in and leave before he could change his mind. I look at Karli; she's crying and scratching hives like crazy. She'd be a terrible criminal thank goodness! She was gasping for air between sobs and said that she was sure that he was going to cuff me and with our luck we'd be on COPS or Inside America's Jails.

We make it through the check point just fine. But then I got to thinking. Here I am with a hollow point loaded .38 and, like I said before, a crap load of ammo. There were no dogs to sniff around for explosives, the cab wasn't searched and I'm thinking....."What the hell? It's THAT easy for a terrorist to get to the dam? That's not making me feel so safe!"

In the officer's defense, Karli and I do not fit the terrorist profile, but then again aren't we the type that the extremists are trying to recruit for their cause?



After a few miles on the road Karli’s hives had diminished and we made it to Vegas just fine.

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It's not so cool anymore

Cole called me today. "Mom, how do I get an epi-pen?"
Oh this was not going to be a good conversation. We found out Cole was severely allergic to bees when he was in first grade. The school had called. He had been stung by a honeybee and his face had begun to swell. By the time I got to the school, which was across the street, he was going into shock. We raced him to the doctor's office and they whisked him away. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but my son was dying. His system was shutting down from the allergic reaction. He hasn't been without his trusted epi-pen since. If he gets stung again he removes the stopper from the vial and jabs the pen on to his thigh. The pressure releases the needle and epinephrine is released into his system giving us enough time to get him to a hospital.
"Cole, you have to have a prescription for one. You need to go the doctor and ask for one before you go."
He informed me that he thought that was stupid and that he had an old one he could take. I'm imagining this fast-food encased, gunk covered, shattered epi-pen. Ok so now I'm going to get hives.
"Oh, and by the way, our plans have changed."
Ok Teri, stay calm, I tried to remind myself. Oh this isn't sounding good. My mom instincts are telling me to sit down and hold on to something, anything, it's gonna be a bumpy phone call.
"We're hitchhiking to Vegas instead!"
I was right, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. Seems Smart Boy and his sidekick, Brilliant Kid, are leaving tomorrow. Hitchhiking to Vegas. Through the desert, Death Valley to be exact. My suburban raised son and his friend in the desert with desert creatures like rattlesnakes and scorpians. This is a kid that stole acorns from a wild squirrel, and was attacked by one pissed off nutless animal.
Then he tells me the best part. When they leave Vegas they're going to go "up through Arizona". Just like that train to California. Oh Good God! I think I did a pretty good job at remaining calm, partly because I couldn't speak and partly because he's going to do it anyway. This way, he'll call me when, if, there's a problem. He did agree to call me at every major town and then he left me with the spine-chilling phrase "that way you can call the police if we don't call when we should". Great thing to tell a mom, especially one that fights anxiety under the best of circumstances.
One one hand, I am excited for him. It'll be an incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience. On the other hand I have this feeling that I'll see him on a new Las Vegas episode of "COPS", and that would be a good thing compared to all the other dreadful things a mom's mind can conjure up.
He said he'll be gone for about 4 weeks. I hope I can last that long, and I hope he takes a camera.

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