Six men came to kill me one time. And the best of them carried this. It’s a Callahan full-bore auto-lock. Customized trigger, double cartridge thorough gauge. It is my very favorite gun.
But my current carry gun, the one I rely on to be there when I need it, is a Glock, a Glock 19 with a red dot, to be be precise.
Here’s the thing. I don’t like Glocks. They have no romance, no soul. They’re the gun equivalent of the Honda Accord or Bud Light. They’re the default option, the boring choice.
But they work. They’re also fairly accurate and most importantly, there are about two billion different accessories out there for Glocks. This is important, because it means I can find the right combination of sights, holsters and whatnot I need to make it work for me. CZs, while stupendously accurate, just don’t have the same popularity, which means I buy one, and I spend weeks looking for the right holster for it.
I like my CZs, but I understand that my affection for them needs to be tempered by what they can do. They’re my favorite guns, but my ego isn’t invested in them to the point where I let my feelings get in the way of optimal performance in a life or death situation.
Am I sentimental about some guns? Oh yeah. Do I let that sentimentally compromise important decisions, like what I rely on to keep me alive? No way, and neither should you.