My love affair with handguns began shortly after I was married.

I know that statement could be misconstrued, so I assure you Dave’s safety was never in jeopardy.

About two weeks after our wedding we packed up our little trailer and headed to New Mexico, right next to the Mexican border.

We would be living near Las Cruces for about six months while Dave managed a job at the military housing in White Sands Missile Range.

Something you need to know – They don’t test missiles in beautiful, well-populated areas. They test them in the middle of nowhere. So we had to live on the edge of the middle of nowhere.

Las Cruces was about a half-hour from the jobsite, and since Dave had to be there at dark-thirty every morning, he wanted to live a little closer to the missile range.

The ONLY place anywhere near the range was Organ. Yes, you can insert your own naughty joke here.

The town was actually nestled against the Organ Mountains that somewhat resembled the pipes of a church organ – if you were very sleepy, near-sighted, and potentially inebriated.

At the time, 26 years ago, there was next to nothing in Organ. There were a few small houses, a post office, and a trailer park with two or three single-wide trailers and maybe a motor home or two.

Calling the trailer park a hole would be an insult to even the most repulsive hole.

Guess where we got to live?

On one side of our trailer, WAY to close for my comfort, about 12 feet away, was the park manager (trailer on the left side of the picture.) He was an older man living alone, except for his parrot that could wolf-whistle.

On the other side was a younger single woman living alone. I never saw her during daylight hours, which might lead some to think she was of the vampire persuasion.

If she WAS a vampire, she had men practically knocking each other over to be bitten by her. ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT LONG.

We were lucky to have phone service up there, since this was before the cellular revolution. And there was no cable or satellite TV. So if I wanted to watch TV, I had my choice of two stations. And one of those only came in well enough to see if the trailer door was slightly ajar.

I tried to sit in the sun when the weather was good, but I had to put up with the park manager’s parrot constantly whistling at me, while I pretended I couldn’t hear the park manager encouraging the parrot to do so.

Dave was working 10-12 hour days, and I was alone all day in what was quite possibly the most isolated seedy trailer park in America.

The logical thing to do was learn to shoot a gun.

If you’re one of THOSE people who thinks handguns should be illegal, I’m sorry, but we can’t be friends anymore. I LOVE guns.

Dave had a .22 handgun with him, so he took me to the edge of the sagebrush and taught me how to handle it properly. All it took was a single squeeze of the trigger and I was SMITTEN.

I’ve shot various rifles and shotguns (an old-timey muzzleloader on a pioneer trek was fun) but my first love is the handgun. Maybe it’s a throwback to my dream of being an FBI agent. I don’t know.

I’ve fired a .38, .45, and 9mm also. Of all the handguns I’ve fired, the 9mm is my very favoritest in the whole world. I really, REALLY want one of my own.

In fact, Glock makes a pink and black 9mm I want SO BAD.The only reason I haven’t gotten one yet is that I had to get a permit to purchase a handgun in Minnesota – and I’m kinda lazy that way.

But now that I’m in Wisconsin, I just have to wait a few days before I can bring a gun home. Waiting doesn’t require any effort on my part. I can do that!

I’ll probably never use a gun for anything more than target practice. That’s MOSTLY okay with me. I would have been happier if I’d had the opportunity to point it at someone and yell, “FBI!”

That’s not going to happen. Not at my age. I could still DO it, mind you, but I understand the government frowns on it if you’re not really FBI.

On the bright side, if I ever again find myself living between a perverted parrot and a prostitute, I’ll be ready.

Now You Tell Me Yours. Where is the worst place you ever lived? Or what is your secret passion most people don’t know about?