Earlier this year a friend was astonished to learn I didn't have a concealed carry permit. I live in a "must issue" state, where permits are available by simply attending a three-hour class, being photographed and fingerprinted, and paying a fee.

Why not own a concealed carry permit? Frankly, it never occurred to me. I'm not a policeman, and I live in a "safe" middle-class neighborhood. But I've recently had second thoughts. Everywhere you look, the safety of ordinary citizens is being gradually eroded by car jackings, home-invasion robberies and formerly rare drive-by shootings. Crackheads and teenaged gangs are arming themselves. Maybe I should take the hint?

I've been writing about guns and hunting far longer than I care to admit. During that time, I've accumulated a sizeable collection of firearms, including I don't know how many pistols and revolvers. I spend a lot of time in desert and mountain country, where my bigbore handguns are carried holstered in plain sight.

I admit to sometimes tucking a small pocket pistol into--where else?--a pocket when hiking wilderness trails. I've also kept a handgun quietly out of sight on family camping trips. I didn't advertise its presence to my children--these were camping, not shooting weekends. Those occasional lapses into lawlessness didn't worry me (although they probably should have). I was simply applying the Scout motto, "Be Prepared," for possible encounters with two-legged predators.

I didn't take concealed carry seriously at first because it's still perfectly legal to walk the streets of most Utah cities with a holstered handgun at your hip. Provided the gun is safely unloaded, you're theoretically within your legal rights. Notice I said "theoretically." Stroll through downtown Provo or Salt Lake City so armed, and I guarantee you won't escape the notice of the local constabulary.

As a bonus, a concealed carry permit also offers financial incentive. Manufacturers regularly loan me guns to test and report on. Each time a gun arrives at my FFL holder, the required background search costs me a small fee--and those fees soon mount up. The search is waived for concealed carry permit holders. I did the math and quickly discovering how foolish I'd been to ignore this money-saving bonanza.

Waiting for my permit to arrive in the mail, I suddenly realized something. Nearly all the handguns I owned were designed primarily for hunting. Precious few were suited to concealed carry. My Thompson/Center single-shots obviously didn't qualify, while the revolvers in my collection were mostly chambered for bigbore deer and bear rounds like the .44 Magnum, .454 Casull and .475 Linebaugh. These heavy, large-framed guns with their 6- and 8-inch barrels weren't something I wanted to tote on my hip every day. Concealing them would present serious problems.

I actually own some pistols designed for self-defense--a handful of .45 ACP 1911-style guns and a diminutive North American Arms .380 ACP Guardian autoloader. Two of these guns were worth considering. The .380 Guardian got the nod because of its diminutive size and modest 18-ounce heft, while a Kimber Compact Aluminum made the list because I have a fondness for 1911 .45s. At 28 ounces, this gun was pleasingly light compared to the other 1911s I owned. I also liked the serious punch .45 ACP loads delivered. The Kimber Compact Aluminum was a forerunner to Kimber's current Pro Carry series.

With those as my "seed guns," I began looking for other concealed carry candidates to evaluate. The first pistol I requested for testing was a Glock Model 36--a compact, 22.4-ounce double-action autoloader in .45 ACP chambering. That big, battle-proven cartridge was a point in this gun's favor.

Let me make a quick distinction: Some auto pistols (like those made by Glock and Kahr) have no exposed hammer and are fired by simply pulling the trigger. However, these pistols can't discharge until the slide has first been manually cycled to chamber a round and cock the action. Firing follow-up shots has the same effect--as the slide cycles under recoil, it automatically recocks the action. This makes for a relatively light, consistent, easily managed trigger pull. True double-action pistols and revolvers aren't cocked before firing--the action cocks as your finger hauls back the trigger. True double-action triggers have longer, heavier pulls that are more difficult to manage.

My next selection was a Kahr PM9--a 9mm pistol weighing only 16 ounces and compact enough to disappear inside the pocket of my jeans. I liked the idea of simple "pocket carry"--no muss, no fuss and nothing bulky stuffed inside your waistband. To facilitate this kind of carrying, De Santis offers the Nemisis, a soft, ambidextrous holster that fits handily inside a front or rear trouser pocket. In addition to holding the pistol securely, it disguises the Kahr's outline. This wallet-shaped holster remains inside your pocket, so it doesn't slow your draw.

Like the Glock 36, the Kahr PM9 has no side-mounted external safeties; these are strictly point-and-shoot pistols. While the Kahr sports no manual safety of any kind, the Glock has its famous Safe-Action trigger. An insert in the trigger face must be depressed--along with the trigger itself--before the gun will fire.

I've always liked revolvers, so I added Smith & Wesson's Model 340 to the mix. Combining a scandium-alloy frame with a titanium cylinder makes this the lightest .357 Magnum I know of. My sample tipped the scales at a hair over 11 ounces. Lacking an external hammer, this is a true double-action handgun. At 61?4 inches long and 4 1/4 inches tall, it's also extremely compact. The barrel is barely 17?8 inches long. Like the Model 60 that inspired it, the Model 340 sports a five-shot cylinder.

Theoretically, an 11-ounce centerfire revolver like this would be the ideal "carry all day" gun. Weighing bare ounces this side of nothing, it hardly makes its presence felt. However, I've fired featherweight magnums before and knew there was a price to pay. I wasn't sure I'd be able to control this gun's recoil with full-house .357 Magnum loads.

With this in mind, I also asked S&W to send me a classic Model 60. This stainless steel revolver weighed exactly twice as much as the Model 340, making it twice as noticeable on your hip. Its 21?8-inch barrel was also slightly longer.

Short barrels mean reduced velocities. With the effects of recoil in mind, I wondered how much punch you'd actually lose by switching from .357 Magnum to .38 Special ammo in these bobbed-barrel revolvers. The chronograph showed 125-grain .38 Special +P loads exiting the Model 60's muzzle at an average velocity of 844 fps. That translated into 198 ft-lbs of energy. Shooting 125-grain .357 Magnum loads through the same gun delivered 1,103 fps and 338 ft-lbs. That's 30 percent greater velocity and a whopping 70 percent more energy. No question--magnums were clearly the way to go.

The two S&W revolvers and the NAA auto pistol sported bare-bones aiming equipment. The Kimber and Glock .45s and the 9mm Kahr wore better sights that were drift-adjustable for windage and far easier to see.

To put these guns through their paces, I met Ken Turner, a lifelong friend and shooting companion, at my improvised desert range. Because the guns were designed for self-defense, we didn't bother with 25-yard targets. Instead we placed Birchwood Casey Shoot-N-C combat-style targets seven yards downrange. This is considered the maximum practical distance for close encounters of the defensive kind. Instead of using a sandbagged rest, we simply gripped the guns in a firm, two-hand hold, then stood and shot.