Biloxi, Mississippi (Ammoland) The Dodge pickup truck rolled west on Eight Mile Road, unofficially the line of demarcation separating the former East Detroit, now East Pointe, from the incorporated war zone know as Detroit, Michigan. At Gratiot Avenue we had to make a “Michigan left turn”, that is we turned right onto Gratiot then merged to the left and made a legal U-turn through the dividing median.
With the skyline of downtown Detroit on the southern horizon, the four-door silver Dodge eased cautiously into occupied territory. Only half-joking I asked if they had set up check points yet to restrict access in and out of the city. Gratiot Avenue is the main surface road leading people from downtown Detroit to the suburbs of East Point, Roseville, and Clinton Township.
From a practical standpoint, the farther north of Eight Mile Road you travel the safer you are or, at the least, less likely be carjacked or murdered for the contents of your pockets. We were heading in the opposite direction that good sense would dictate. I had to see with my own eyes what had become of the neighborhood I knew from elementary age to my early high school years.
It was readily apparent that few buildings from my youth remained or remained recognizable. Flanking the major thoroughfare were a combination of boarded up store fronts, check-cashing shops, fast food restaurants, “weave” and “hair extension” emporiums and liquor stores or “party shops” as we grew up calling them. Most every building was adorned with some type of spray-painted gang “tag.”
As a precaution I had slipped a 9mm pistol into my right jacket pocket so it could be more easily accessed from behind the wheel. Another pistol was secured in a holster over my right hip. It was January in Michigan and my holstered pistol was covered by an over-shirt and fleece jacket. Also, I was belted in behind the steering wheel. A pocket gun seemed a prudent choice.
Read the entire article “Saving Detroit?” at www.studentofthegun.com