A Showdown on Highway 20

When I left Mountain Home on my way to Medford, Oregon, I'd be travelling a route I knew WELL. I took the shortcut through Notus & Nyssa. Knowing gas was always higher in Burns, I topped-off in Vale, so I'd have fuel range all the way to Bend. The car I was driving, (and would LEAVE at Mom & Dad's while I was in Italy), was a bright red '68 Ford Torino GT fastback with a big-block "390" under the hood. The "390" is an old Ford "workhorse" and a terrific engine, lots of horsepower and torque, but the trade-off for horsepower is always fuel-consumption. It averaged about 16 miles per gallon, and 17 COULD be had if you had good throttle technique. But it was winter, snow on the roads and ice in places. Oregon 20 wasn't well maintained back then, and you couldn't really hold a steady speed, so I stuffed every last drop I could get into it at Vale.

It was during the middle of the week, and I pretty much had the road to myself. About 35 or 40 miles later, the alternator light came on. I looked for the next roadside clearing, and pulled it off the highway to have a look. Fanbelt was gone! It had broken, which of course stopped turning the alternator, and thus, the light.

Not a problem. Along with extra oil and water, I have "religiously" ALWAYS carried a spare fanbelt in whatever car I'm driving. I didn't relish changing it out in the cold, but at least I had one to put ON it. I got into the trunk, grabbed the wrench & socket I needed, changed the belt and was about to close the hood when this van pulls up behind me.

You know how you get a "sixth sense" when something doesn't feel right? I opened my passenger door and eased my Colt Python off the rightside bucket and slipped it under my jacket, closed the door and walked back around the front of my car and closed the hood.

By this time, three "seedy" looking dudes had gotten out of the van. Two of them stopped, well short of my car. The third guy kept coming but stopped at my trunk.

If you've ever spent time on Oregon 20, you know how desolate it can get out there, and you rarely EVER see a state cop out there. Towns are few and far in-between, and you're so far away from help, you might as well be on the moon.

It was dead silent out there, no passing cars from either direction. "You got a problem, man?" says our "third guy." "Busted belt, it's fixed now, but thanks for stopping," I replied.

"WE GOT A PROBLEM TOO.........WE NEED MONEY!"....and as he said that, the other two started to spread out a bit and move toward my car.

When you've had to kill, you just do what's instinctive, so I reached inside my jacket and drew out the Colt, levelled it at the scumbag who was doing the talking, and told him something like "Well, you STILL do!" (I wasn't about to get jumped, or knifed by these three, out in the middle of nowhere). The "mouth" of the three said something to the effect that "You're not gonna get all THREE of us!"...................."Maybe not, but I'll get YOU for SURE, %*&hole!

This immediately changed the situation. He backed up and motioned his buddies to do the same, then pleaded with me to "cool it man.....don't get P--- D off!"......"WE'LL LEAVE!"

"NO YOU WON'T"........I didn't need these characters to be dropping in behind me somewhere, or running for the police. I told the three of them to stay put or I would kill the first one who moved-------------and you have to understand how things were in my life at the time-------

I had just gone through a bitter divorce, and all I wanted to do now was get to Medford, rest up a couple of weeks and get out of the country and over to Italy. It had been one thing after the other lately, and we've ALL been there at least ONCE.............you know the one..........."The NEXT person that SCREWS WITH ME".............I was cold, tired, and getting more "P.O.'d" by the minute. These creeps had picked the wrong day and the wrong "wallet."

If you've never had to shoot a human being, there's a lot of anxiety the first time, throat gets parched, hands tremor and sweat a little, pulse races and so does your mind. You either question your willingness and hope for a "way out".........or a sudden calm and very cool stroke of body temperature comes over you---------you settle down and without flinching, take care of business.

The FIRST time.

After that, the "preliminaries" are over. It's always there. To ME, in 1974, these punks were just "three more confirmed" if it came to it. Nothing more. Except THIS time, I would HAVE a reason.

Nobody moved. That was GOOD for THEM, as I'd have HAD to shoot all three, to keep from leaving any witnesses. This situation was going down positive or negative, there was no third way, and at this point in my life, I didn't care one way or the other. Of the four of us standing out there in the cold, I was the only one who KNEW how close they were to dying, and it didn't appear to me that anyone would miss these creeps.

I quickly walked around to the driver's door of that van, opened it up and pulled the keys out of the ignition, then I made "mouth" come over there, lift the hood, pull the distributor cap and toss it over by my car. I told them "DON'T let me see you &%*holes again! As I got into my car, one of them yelled out........"YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE US HERE!!"................I cranked mine up and took off.

Now..........before anyone reading this gets "righteous", put yourself in my place, and do a little "soul-searching"...... This whole scenario went down over the course of at LEAST 10 minutes, and not ONE vehicle passed us either way. Had they been able to rob ME, they might not have left ME alive to identify THEM or their van. I also didn't know if any of THEM might be carrying a knife or something, but it was three against one, out in the middle of NOWHERE.

It was a very cold day. Without the keys, they wouldn't be able to start the van, and with the distributor in MY possession, they wouldn't have even been able to hotwire it either. These weren't the kind of dudes that any motorists would stop and pick up, and if by remote chance, a cop DID come by, they'd have to come up with a pretty slick story about why somebody would just pull off the road, just to relieve them of their keys and distributor cap!

If it got TOO cold out there, they could always huddle-up inside the van. I hadn't locked their doors, (probably SHOULD have).

Anyway, I drove on through Burns and on into Bend, stopped at Denny's, got a burger and coffee to go, tossed the distibutor cap in the dumpster on the way out, headed south on 97 to the Crater Lake Junction, pulled over for a quick "pit stop", and tossed those ignition keys out in a pasture. Drove on into Medford and kicked back for a couple of weeks until it was time to put the car up on blocks, cover it with a tarp, and go get on the plane.

Whatever happened to those three in the van??

Who cares! They're lucky to be alive, whether they know it or not.

And I never thought about THIS until many years later..........HERE was a situation the mere PRESENCE of a gun STOPPED a crime before it ever happened.

Nobody got shot..............but neither did anyone get STABBED and ROBBED!

That was over 36 years ago, and I've not had to "unholster" since.....except at the range. And that's fine with me. But everytime I see one of those bumper stickers at a gunshow that says-----------"It's Better to Have a Gun and NOT Need it......Than to NEED a Gun and not HAVE it!"...............................................................

Donna and I usually manage a trip out to the coast every 2 or 3 years, and everytime we pass that clearing, I always think back to that stretch of lonely Oregon 20 in the dead of winter, back in '74.