I was once, some 18 years back, working in a treacherous inner city gas station. A drive-by shooting pierced two bullets right between me (the cashier) and the customer and landed on a Little Debbie Honey bun. There were two deaths that night, a 17 year old and another 18 year old in the car parked right outside the entrance of the Gas Station where I was working night shift. Their passenger friend, who lived, had come out to get the Dutch Master. It was later alleged that another rival gang member, shot from the sun-roof of a drive by car. The killers were never found. Our gas station had poor camera system. I thanked my luck that day. I live to tell you this story today. No one in particular, perhaps, saved me. But I am thankful that I did not die by an inch that day. I will eventually though. But don't know how and when.