Mace, or a .38?

For the first time in over 400 miles, I found myself chatting to a fellow cyclist.  He was English, a doctor, and just finished an overnight shift.

Naturally, he was on a racing bike, unencumbered with any panniers. We chatted about this and that and he oooh-ed and aaah-ed appropriately when I described my pacific coast highway journey.  The 'dog incident' bubbled up into conversation and he looked over when I had told the story and asked "do you have mace?"

When I said I didn't, he pointed to a small canister attached to his crossbar with Velcro: "that's to sort out the farm boys" he asserted with a knowing nod.  "Of course, my pal Jim, another Brit relies on a 38".  He said it nonchalantly, as you would comment on who won the game last night or what you had for dessert.  I had to enquire "you mean a gun?".  He looked at me, po-faced, and said "Of course: you get inland here and you're in farm country and those farm boys just love messing with cyclists.  The only answer is a credible deterrent"  Before I had time to react, he started to describe a long hill ahead and with that he was away.

I dropped a gear and resolved not to travel through farm territory, the strains of Deliverance echoing through my head.