A visit to the Gun Barn

[Jim B.]

Arizona is probably the widest and deepest part of the U.S. gun culture. It is legal to buy guns in Arizona with minimal ID, a cursory background check and no wait. Then a gun owner can sell, trade, carry and conceal with almost no paperwork.



I had seen handguns for sale in gun shops in Arizona towns, in liquor stores, even in the convenience stores of gas stations along the scenic state highways.



The Mercury Grand Marquis crunched across the gravel parking lot outside the Gun Barn, and I parked it between two four wheel drive pickup trucks just outside the entrance.



I walked inside, and saw customers at the counter and in the aisles. It smelled like steel and oil. Hanging flourescent tubes cast a nervous light on the men and the racks of long guns.



I browsed the racks of the long guns, mostly used, mostly old American military guns. The prices were good. Some had the bayonets still on.



Then I went to the counter and looked down at the handguns, everything from two-shot ivory-handled derringers to a Casull .50 caliber. I saw some nice Colt 1911s similar to the one my gradfather had given me.



All makes of guns, all caliber, were for sale, from .22 short derringers to 10-gauge riot guns. The prices ranged from fifty dollars for a used Lorcin .25 to seven hundred and fifty dollars for a new Colt .45 ACP. You could get a Taurus .38, a Savage Arms 12-gauge, a Ruger .22, almost anything.



There was an archery section; the crossbow section was especially large.



I saw blowguns and throwing stars and throwing knives and high powered slingshots similar to the ones I had used with ball bearings, shooting them as a boy.



The knives ranged in size from huge Bowie knives to tiny dirks. There were battle swords and Japanese fighting swords and decorative swords and lances and scimitars and dueling foils and medieval execution axes and scythes for the Grim Reaper. Further back in the store I found open crates of surplus antipersonnel bombs and neutered hand grenades and brass. there were government-issue flashlights and wristwatches and helmets and flak jackets and combat boots and K rations and parachutes. The clothing section featured everything from underwear to sports coats in a variety of camouflage patterns.



The security cameras watched me.


(Inspired by recent prose of T Jefferson Parker, and expanded somewhat.)