Several years ago I was sitting outside on my front porch at dusk inspecting a S&W .357 revolver my dad had given me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something white, only to find a rather skinny young black man dressed in a white shirt, black necktie and black pants walking up the driveway toward me. He had gotten halfway to the house from the road (about 100 ft) before I saw him. When he saw that I was aware of him, he threw up his hand and waved, and began talking to me in a loud voice. I stood up and let him see the revolver in my hand, and he stopped dead in his tracks. I told him to state his business, and he began saying something rather incoherent and unintelligible. I told him that it would probably be in his best interest to turn around and peddle whatever he was selling elsewhere. He took my advice without hesitation.