Just north of Dade City, FL.
I will open by advising that those of you who are geographically close to this guy or who are middle FL residents owe it to yourself to patronize his shop because he is an honorable peddler as described below:
Here is what happened:
My job requires me to travel to Saint Leo, FL. once per month for about three days. Well I can't be anywhere for three days without making myself familiar with the LGS guys. So among numerous others, I haunt a shop owned by Bruce Dow known as the Arms Room on 301 north of Dade City, FL by about six miles. (I might add that it is across the road from "George and Gladys" who build just about the greasiest burger in the western hemisphere. This burger is so greasy that they have a fire hose outside to hose down the patrons. You can't hold it in your hands. You have to eat it with a fork and knife. That burger alone is worth about a hundred mile drive. But I digress.)
Last year, I hooked up with a lady (The "Widow Shannon") who was bedding at the Hampton Inn in Dade City (my customary abode) and struck up a friendship which has lasted over the intervening months. The reason for her travel to Dade City was to assist her 88 year old uncle, a former police office, reloader and firearm worshiper as we all are. He had a stroke, fell, busted up his head, turned into a quasi nonfunctional, and she took it upon herself to liquidate his estate consisting of a mobile home in one of the numerous postage stamp outfits that dot the FL farmland (and I do mean farmland.) and a super cool Denali SUV.
To her chagrin in addition to a bunch of junk furniture, his trailer was loaded with four handguns and about five hundred pounds (and that is not an exaggeration) of reloaded ammunition and hulls. We are talking about thousands of rounds of ammunition and bucket after bucket of hulls. The widow wanted the handguns, which were essentially no account, for sentimental reasons and thus I advised her to view them as part of the inheritance that her kin would eventually receive. The rest of the stuff, to her, was a nuisance which needed to be disposed of safely. I made her aware that the ammunition was worth more than the four saturday night specials. I encourage careful planning in the disposal of her magazine.
We held a hasty inventory, and loaded the tons of bullets into her Cadillac Escalade for the short trip to Bruce Dow's Arms Room. (Remember Bruce?....He is the hero in the story.)
We got to Bruce's with a lingering skepticism as to his interest in reloads and in old munitions. Some won't touch it. But Bruce is the genuine article. "Sure I am interested!" said he.
He looked over the bullet filled Cadillac while the Widow Shannon was declaring, "Look! I don't want anything for this stuff! Just throw it away!" She is no more capable at appraising ammunition than she is at choosing SUV's (I meant really! an Escalade?!) Bruce looked at me for a dose of reality as I tried to curb the widow's enthusiasm to be rid of the magazine which to her was a minor annoyance. She said, "Look, gimme fifty dollars for this stuff." while bruce continued to eyeball me. "Okay...Okay...twenty dollars!" proclaimed the widow. Bruce looks at me finally to establish that he wanted to do business with someone who had at least a speck of understanding as to the value of the cache.
As Widow Shannon rambled on, Bruce and I came to a reasonable price which he happily paid and the Widow, thus silenced, happily accepted. (Since it was far more than $20.00).
What is the point? Bruce could have exploited this vulnerable lady for his own personal gain, but he didn't.
He opted to negotiate as an honest man in a world in which honest men are not abundant and honesty is rewarded, to the detriment of profit, only with personal pride, another rare commodity.
So guys!
Please go to Dade City. Have a burger at George and Gladys' greasy spoon. Then go over to the Arms Room and buy something from Bruce. Tell him you came to his gunshop because your heard from some old curmudgeon, that he was a man of integrity. That'll mean more to him than the profit he makes on whatever you buy from him.
I will open by advising that those of you who are geographically close to this guy or who are middle FL residents owe it to yourself to patronize his shop because he is an honorable peddler as described below:
Here is what happened:
My job requires me to travel to Saint Leo, FL. once per month for about three days. Well I can't be anywhere for three days without making myself familiar with the LGS guys. So among numerous others, I haunt a shop owned by Bruce Dow known as the Arms Room on 301 north of Dade City, FL by about six miles. (I might add that it is across the road from "George and Gladys" who build just about the greasiest burger in the western hemisphere. This burger is so greasy that they have a fire hose outside to hose down the patrons. You can't hold it in your hands. You have to eat it with a fork and knife. That burger alone is worth about a hundred mile drive. But I digress.)
Last year, I hooked up with a lady (The "Widow Shannon") who was bedding at the Hampton Inn in Dade City (my customary abode) and struck up a friendship which has lasted over the intervening months. The reason for her travel to Dade City was to assist her 88 year old uncle, a former police office, reloader and firearm worshiper as we all are. He had a stroke, fell, busted up his head, turned into a quasi nonfunctional, and she took it upon herself to liquidate his estate consisting of a mobile home in one of the numerous postage stamp outfits that dot the FL farmland (and I do mean farmland.) and a super cool Denali SUV.
To her chagrin in addition to a bunch of junk furniture, his trailer was loaded with four handguns and about five hundred pounds (and that is not an exaggeration) of reloaded ammunition and hulls. We are talking about thousands of rounds of ammunition and bucket after bucket of hulls. The widow wanted the handguns, which were essentially no account, for sentimental reasons and thus I advised her to view them as part of the inheritance that her kin would eventually receive. The rest of the stuff, to her, was a nuisance which needed to be disposed of safely. I made her aware that the ammunition was worth more than the four saturday night specials. I encourage careful planning in the disposal of her magazine.
We held a hasty inventory, and loaded the tons of bullets into her Cadillac Escalade for the short trip to Bruce Dow's Arms Room. (Remember Bruce?....He is the hero in the story.)
We got to Bruce's with a lingering skepticism as to his interest in reloads and in old munitions. Some won't touch it. But Bruce is the genuine article. "Sure I am interested!" said he.
He looked over the bullet filled Cadillac while the Widow Shannon was declaring, "Look! I don't want anything for this stuff! Just throw it away!" She is no more capable at appraising ammunition than she is at choosing SUV's (I meant really! an Escalade?!) Bruce looked at me for a dose of reality as I tried to curb the widow's enthusiasm to be rid of the magazine which to her was a minor annoyance. She said, "Look, gimme fifty dollars for this stuff." while bruce continued to eyeball me. "Okay...Okay...twenty dollars!" proclaimed the widow. Bruce looks at me finally to establish that he wanted to do business with someone who had at least a speck of understanding as to the value of the cache.
As Widow Shannon rambled on, Bruce and I came to a reasonable price which he happily paid and the Widow, thus silenced, happily accepted. (Since it was far more than $20.00).
What is the point? Bruce could have exploited this vulnerable lady for his own personal gain, but he didn't.
He opted to negotiate as an honest man in a world in which honest men are not abundant and honesty is rewarded, to the detriment of profit, only with personal pride, another rare commodity.
So guys!
Please go to Dade City. Have a burger at George and Gladys' greasy spoon. Then go over to the Arms Room and buy something from Bruce. Tell him you came to his gunshop because your heard from some old curmudgeon, that he was a man of integrity. That'll mean more to him than the profit he makes on whatever you buy from him.
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