Pawn Shop Circuit: Shops Less Traveled
First up was a pawn shop run by a father and son, with a regular clientele of blue collar workers. A couple of carpenters were inside jaw jacking with the owner as I walked over to the gun counter. I was pretty much ignored. The case contained inexpensive new handguns, fairly priced. I made a note of a Ruger MKIII in stainless steel for $308. There were also Charter Arms revolvers, Heritage revolvers, RG revolvers, and a rack of used deer rifles. I gazed at a RG10 revolver a bit. I could not remember if I had ever seen one new. Even new, it was a turd. As I turned to leave, the owner asked if he could help me. I thanked him, but said no as I walked outside.
Next was a pawn shop favored by the biker crowd. It was a dusty place filled with big black speakers, guitars, motorcycle parts, tools, bongs, and a case of handguns. Last year, in desperation, I had checked this place and the long haired counter jockey had just gotten in a Colt Series 80 1911 that someone had grafted Bomar sights onto, put in a full length guide rod, and some "lamo camo" checkered grips. I had looked it over back then, but handed it back when I saw the $1000 price tag. I was not surprised to see it still in the case today, a year or so later. It is still priced at $999. There were some other handguns in the case, but nothing memorable. Strangely, there were handwritten signs saying "Guns Sold to FFL Dealers Only" posted all through the shop. It seems a tail must have gotten pinched in a crack at some point. I did not ask.
Finally, I decided to try one more pawn shop. This one was cleaner than the biker pawn shop, but it had a distinct thrift store flavor geared to the new divorcee. Playskool toys were for sale. There was a long counter dedicated to rings and assorted jewelry. A young woman was behind the counter
I jingled the change in my pocket as I stood in front of the counter. The woman continued her conversation. I took out my wallet and counted the bills inside. The woman continued her conversation. I cleared my throat. She looked my way, and then turned back to her conversation. I bent over, copied down the serial number through the glass, and walked out of the shop. I might return to purchase the revolver, I might not.
Labels: Pawn Shop Circuit