Yes. Trust me. Long story, but last time it happened in my favor gunshots were involved.
I'm not sure about everyone else, but I've got time for a long story...
Alright, dammit, since my credibility is being brought into question here.
About ten years ago, former wife & I lived in a house on a two-lane stretch of CA180 out in the country about five miles east of Fresno. One night, just after returning from a Christmas party about 10:30, I heard tires screeching and a thud out front. I looked out the window to see headlights pointed at my house from just behind my freshly plowed mailbox.
Grabbed the trusty Wingmaster 870 with 18" barrel & pistol grip that I keep under the mattress and went to make sure justice was served. The guy got the car started and backed across the highway, where it stalled again. He was trying to start it when I arrived next to the car. He was looking just a bit more plowed than my mailbox, so the good samaritan in me was bound and determined to make sure he didn't get going again. Might be a family next on the plowing agenda, ya know? So, when my yelling at him to quit trying to start the car didn't get his attention, I racked one in. He still didn't get the message so I touched it off across his hood, angled so the muzzle had an unobscured path toward his ear. Dipshit was still trying to start the car, so I repeated the whole process again. I guess the second one got his attention, along with my very loud promise to put the next one into his radiator if he got the car started.
In the meantime, former wife was on the horn to the authorities, describing the situation, blow by blow. She couldn't see what was happening but told them about the gunshots. They tend to show up PDQ when shots are fired.
Back out in the street, drunk boy had given up the car-starting project and the keys. I even offered to give him a ride back home, which he accepted. So, I went into the house, traded in the long gun for a pistol & my car keys, then headed back out, got in the car & tucked the pistol away. About this time, I hear drunk boy yelling at my dog Rocky, rest his soul, "I'm gonna get you, I know where you live", as he was taking off on foot down the way he was trying to go in the car (probably to a bar). Since I had his keys and his car was off the road, I took the pistol back into the house and went back outside, unarmed. A couple minutes later, a couple of patrol cars stopped about 150 feet to the east of the property, so I walked on over toward them.
Suddenly, I was blinded by flashlights. I already had my hands out in plain view, so I just stopped and raised them. As the lights got closer, I hear a voice from behind them say "Hey man, how's it goin'?
It was the one sheriff's deputy I had befriended since they had been leaving their units at one of our fire stations on the west side of town. He was working an OT shift in a different area that night. It could have been a lot more tense if it was any other officer. He asked me for a quick rundown of the situation and where the gun was now. I told him it was in the house and that was all he needed to hear. They picked up the drunk guy a little ways back down the road, but they couldn't place him behind the wheel so they took him in for public drunkenness. Turns out, he was a local drunk who lived about a half mile down the road. He never came back to settle the score with Rocky or fix my mailbox, so I put a new one up myself.
Believable enough, eh?