I told them, pointing to the red dot painted onto the guy's chest, then to the guy in the minivan across the street, pointing a .30-06 out the driver's window...

Needless to say, they changed their mind, jumped back in their Escalade, and got the **** outta there.

 

It all started when I got seriously cut-off by a Jeep Grand Cherokee on the way home frmo school. I was only doing 80mph down the fast lane when the Jeep cut into my lane - he was doing just barely over 60mph, and was so close that I had to slam on the brakes HARD and swerve into the shoulder. I even locked the inside-front tire.

I was absolutely pissed... Pulled alongside the dumbass. For some reason, he thought I was in the wrong - I read his lips, "****ing bitch," as he flicked me off.

After a small swerve and a few brake checks, I slow down to about 50mph. He never got closer than 20ft to my bumper. Even when I pulled into the adjacent lane, he still didn't have the nerve to pass me.

 

So while I'm screwing around with the Jeep, both us doing 50mph in the two fast lanes, we were causing some major traffic and pissing off a bunch of people. One such person was a black Escalade with a large Super Bowl XXXVIII logo on the door. As he drove by, he made a gun with his fingers, then pulled the trigger a few times.

I was gonna let it go... but he cut me off. Big time.

 

So I catch up, pull alongside, and he does it again. I just stare at him, give him a few sexy kisses with my lips, then swerve a bit. I kinda scared him, then I got in front and brake checked him.

He pulls alongside me and his passenger rolls down his window. Then he starts waving a water bottle at me!

He throws it at me, but since it was empty it didn't even come close.

 

And if I don't like people kicking my tire, you can imagine how I feel about people throwing water bottles at it.

I speed up, get in front, roll down my window, then grab my ashtray. I empty the contents into my hands (a bunch of coins, not ashes - I don't smoke), then proceed to throw them out my window in large handfuls.

Watching in my rear-view mirror, I can see them bouncing off the hood and windshield.

"Ha, that should teach him," I think to myself, as I speed off.

 

So now I'm doing about 85mph and the Escalade is still behind me. He wasn't close or anything, so I figured everything was over.

I signal to the next lane to make a pass... He follows. OK, no big deal - just coincidence.

Then I make my exit, crossing 4 lanes. He does the same. "Oh, great," I think.

Even after all the shit that just happened, I wasn't in the mood to get arrested. As my exit came up, I kept straight, and swerved for the exit at the last possible moment. No luck, the Escalade made the exit as well.

 

We end up at a traffic light, and thankfully I end up at the front.

Then oh shit, they get out. There were four of them, all pretty damn big (not Arnold Snortsinator big, just Tom Arnold big). I stay in the car. Then I see one of them with a tire iron in his hand. He brings it up high, then back down. But before it can contact my Camaro, I peel forward about 10ft, put it in neutral, and step out with my bat.

The normal shit-talking ensues...

"C'mon son, bring that bat!"

"That's alright, we already called the cops. That's why we're following you."

 

They start coming at me again, so I thought better of the situation (or chickened out), and got the **** outta there. The guy with the tire iron went for one more hit, but missed again, stumbling onto his hands and knees as he missed my car.

I thought it was all over (for the second time) so I'm doing about 60mph down the feeder.

 

Then I see the Escalade coming up, and coming up FAST.

I give it not even half-throttle in third gear, leave them behind. Unfortunately, there was traffic so I never got that ahead - they were trying hard to follow me, and I was trying even harder to get away.

Desperate, I call my redneck friend Dustin, and tell him I'm in deep shit.

 

At first I was going to drive to his house, but we decided that was a bad idea - we don't want them to know where he lives. Instead, we would meet at a gas station...

So I pull into the RaceTrac gas station. The Escalade followed me the whole way there, and pulled in real close behind me. I got out with my bat, the other four guys with their fist and a tire iron.

We start talking shit of course, a crowd starts to gather (the Budweiser delivery guy was about to try to break things up, I think), then I point at the guy's shirt. There was a red dot dancing up and down his chest. (Dustin and I decided that he'd camp across the street in the pawn shop parking lot, and I'd pull into the front of the gas station.)

They all look at his shirt, a little confused. They look for a laser pen in my hand... Then I point across the street. "You see that guy in the green van?" I asked them.

They didn't answer, but I knew they saw.

"He's an EXCELLENT shot."