My Dad was a good driver. I don’t think he ever had an accident in a car. He enjoyed driving and drove assertively. I think that comes from having learnt to drive on a motorbike first.
I was driving around in my old VW van and I couldn’t help noticing that all the strangest rednecks would keep waving and flashing me V signs.
After a couple of months of this, I asked what was going on. It seemed I had an NRA sticker on the windscreen. I was a real John Bircher now! The guy I’d exchanged the van with was an NRA man. Keep America free. It’s the right of every free man to be armed. They told me they were the good guys. They needed to protect themselves against the bad guys.
Among the bad guys, they place their own government. While I am none too enamoured with our own politicians and see the government as an arm of the establishment, I do not see that revolution is a good way forward.
It is every American’s right to be armed to the teeth in case, one day, they have to overthrow their own government. It did not matter if this meant putting assault rifles in the hands of the criminally insane, terrorists, criminals, gangs or madmen with a grudge. It did not matter that the State they were looking to overthrow was the one that they had elected or that it could deploy an army of hundreds of thousands, tanks, missiles, bombers and nukes; it was a basic right. The repeated mass killings in schools and concerts are an unfortunate side issue.
The irony was that the time when the government really should have been overthrown was the very time that these gun-nutters supported it most!
I took the sticker out of the windscreen.