August 8, 2025 • 16 mins
Stopping for gas on a sunny Saturday afternoon turned into a nerve-wracking encounter that I never anticipated. What began as a simple fill-up morphed into a tense journey when an overly curious stranger at a quaint gas station set my instincts on high alert. As I drove away, unease evolved into downright fear as I realized a pickup truck was tailing me, mimicking every move I made on the highway. My heart raced, but the unexpected compassion of a family at a rest area provided a beacon of hope, offering support when I needed it the most.Reflecting on the harrowing chase, I remembered my mother's sage advice: "find the lights." Seeking refuge at a bustling truck stop, the friendly faces of truckers became my lifeline, helping me evade my pursuer. This chapter of my journey not only taught me the importance of acting in moments of fear but also revealed the profound kindness strangers can offer. The road holds new meaning now, standing as a testament to resilience and the hidden strength we possess, even when shadows loom large. Listen to this story of fear turned courage, and how strangers' kindness can light the darkest paths.
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/scary-nighttime-horror-tales--6704938/support.
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/scary-nighttime-horror-tales--6704938/support.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
As a teacher, my weekends are my sanctuary. They're my
time to recharge, plan for the week ahead, and maybe
indulge in a little me time. It was a sunny
Saturday afternoon and I was returning to Columbus, Ohio after
visiting a friend in a nearby town. I got so
caught up chatting over coffee that I totally forgot to
(00:24):
fill up the car, and by the time I hit
the road, my car's gas gauge was teetering dangerously close
to empty. I figured i'd stop at the first station
I saw. The station I pulled into looked like something
out of a time warp. The paint was peeling and
the pumps were clearly older models, but it was functional,
(00:45):
and I wasn't in the mood to be picky. A
small convenience store sat adjacent to the pumps, its windows
smudged but letting in enough light to make the interior
look relatively clean. To the right of the store, there
was a small outdoor area, a booth with a few
weather chairs. Sitting there was a man, his figure slouched
(01:06):
but his head upright watching. At first, I didn't think
much of it, Maybe he was just taking a break
but as I stepped out of my car, I noticed
something unsettling. He wasn't just sitting, he was staring. His
eyes were locked on my car or maybe me. I
brushed it off. Maybe he was waiting for someone, or
(01:29):
maybe he wasn't even aware of how intense his gaze looked. Still,
I felt a prickle of unease as I approached the
pump and started filling my tank. The sun was warm
on my back and the hum of the gas pump
filled the air, but it was impossible to shake the
feeling of being watched. Every time I looked toward the booth,
the man's eyes were still on me. He didn't even
(01:50):
pretend to look away. I told myself to stay calm.
Maybe he was just bored, or maybe he had a
habit of staring. Either way, I decided I wouldn't stick
around any longer than necessary. As the pump clicked to
signal the tank was full, I capped it off and
headed toward the convenience store to pay. The man was
(02:11):
still watching, his gaze following me. As I walked past
the booth, I kept my head high and avoided eye contact,
hoping to project confidence, even though my stomach churned with unease.
The lighting in the store was low, but it was clean,
with the subtle smell of coffee and cleaning supplies in
the air. A young attendant stood behind the counter, scrolling
(02:33):
on his phone. He barely looked up as I walked in,
muttering a half hearted hey. I handed him my card,
eager to finish the transaction and leave. As I waited
for the receipt, the door behind me chimed. My breath caught.
The man from the booth had entered. His boots echoed
against the tile floor as he approached the counter, stopping
(02:54):
just a few feet away from me. I could feel
his presence like a weight on my shoulders. He said,
low and gravelly. You driving that blue hatchback out there? Yeah?
Why nice car, he said, his lips curling into a
thin smile. Reliable. Ah, yeah, it gets me where I
need to go, I replied, keeping it polite but distant.
(03:16):
You traveling alone, he asked casually, But the question hit
me like a slap. My mind raced, No, my boyfriend's
in the car. He's just on a call. The man's
smile didn't falter. That's so yep, I said, quickly, grabbing
my cart and receipt have a good day. I turned
and walked toward the door, my heart racing in my chest.
(03:38):
As I stepped outside, I resisted the urge to look back,
focusing instead on reaching my car. I climbed in, locked
the doors, and started the engine. In my rear view mirror,
I saw the man exit the store and returned to
the booth. He sat down, his eyes still fixed on me.
I pulled out of the gas station and onto the highway,
relieved to be putting distance between myself and that unnerving encounter.
(04:02):
But as the miles stretched on, I noticed headlights in
my rear view mirror a pickup truck. It was far
enough back that I couldn't see the driver, but something
about it felt wrong. When I changed lanes, so did
the truck. When I sped up, it matched my pace.
My unease turned to panic. This wasn't a coincidence. The
(04:22):
man was following me. The highway was eerily empty, with
no exits in sight. I gripped the wheel tightly, trying
to stay calm. Up ahead, I spotted a rest area.
It wasn't much, just a small lot with a few
picnic tables and vending machines, but it was well lit
and had a couple of cars parked there. I decided
(04:43):
to take my chances. I signaled and pulled into the lot,
parking near a family sitting at one of the tables.
The pickup truck pulled into the lot, rolling to a
stop just a few feet from my car. I felt
a sickening churn in my stomach as I watched the
man get outitated for a moment, his eyes locking on
me as I stood by the family. Without a word,
(05:04):
he headed toward the restroom, his eyes hanging on me
just enough to unsettle me. I turned to the family
and explained what had happened. They were kind, their concern
evident as they invited me to sit with them. You're
safe here, the father said, reassuring me, we won't let
anything happen to you. I stayed close to them, grateful
(05:26):
for their company as we made small talk, their warmth
soothing the chill of my anxiety. A few minutes later,
the man emerged from the restroom. He looked in my direction,
His unreadable eyes met mine for a moment before he
turned and walked to his pickup. He climbed in and
for what felt like hours. He just sat there. My
(05:48):
pulse quickened as I waited to see what he'd do. Finally,
he pulled out of the lot and disappeared down the highway.
The family stayed with me until I felt safe enough
to get back on the road. It was their kindness
that anchored me during what had been one of the
most unnerving nights of my life. After about twenty minutes,
(06:09):
I got back in my car and resumed my drive.
Every set of headlights behind me made my pulse quicken,
and every passing car felt like a potential threat. When
I finally pulled into my driveway, I locked all the
doors and windows and sat in my living room trying
to process what had happened. The man's face and the
(06:30):
truck's headlights haunted me that night. What were his intentions?
Was he just trying to scare me or was it
something worse? I'll never know for sure, and while I'm
grateful I got away unscathed, I've learned that sometimes danger
is closer than you think. I've always enjoyed road trips.
(06:58):
As a librarian, I spent a lot of my time indoors,
surrounded by books and quiet, and there's nothing quite like
the freedom of cruising the open road with a playlist
of my favorite songs and no set agenda. That day,
I decided to take a solo trip through North Carolina.
I'd heard Ashville was a must see, so I mapped
out my route, packed some snacks, and hit the highway.
(07:22):
It was around eight pm when I realized I needed
a break. I'd been driving for hours and hadn't seen
much besides trees and winding roads. When I spotted a
gas station sign ahead, I decided it was time to
stretch my legs and use the restroom. The place wasn't much,
a small, worn out building with a single pump out front,
(07:43):
but it was open, and that was all that mattered.
I pulled into the lot, noticing how deserted it was.
There were no other cars, just my little hatchback and
the faint glow of a flickering Neon open sign. The
building looked older, with peeling pain and a cracked window
near the entrance. The restroom was around the side, marked
(08:04):
by a rusted sign that read ladies. I grabbed my bag,
locked my car, and headed toward it. The restroom door
creaked as I pushed it open, and I was greeted
by the harsh buzz of a fluorescent light overhead. It
wasn't the cleanest place, but I'd seen worse on road trips.
There were two stalls and a single sink with a
(08:25):
cloudy mirror above it. I chose the cleaner looking stall,
set my bag on the hook, and locked the door
behind me. As I sat there, I couldn't help but
notice how quiet it was, the kind of silence that
feels unnatural, like the calm before a storm, when everything
seems to halt. I figured it wasn't worth worrying about,
(08:47):
telling myself i'd spent too much time reading thrillers. But
then I heard a faint creak, like someone stepping on
the linoleum floor. I froze, listening closely. The sound came again,
followed by soft shuffle of footsteps. Someone had entered the restroom.
I looked at the gap beneath the stall door, expecting
to see feet, but there was nothing. Then the footsteps
(09:10):
stopped right in front of my stall. My breath caught
as I watched the shadow shift and the stall door rattled,
as if someone was testing the lock. Occupied. I said,
my voice shaky, whoever it was didn't respond. The shadow
lingered for a moment, then moved away. I stayed perfectly still,
(09:31):
waiting to hear the sound of the door opening and closing,
signaling they had left, but it never came. The silence
returned heavier than before. Gathering my courage, I flushed and
unlatched the door. The restroom was empty. I checked both stalls, nothing.
The only exit was the door I had entered through.
A chill ran through me, but I told myself it
(09:53):
was nothing. Maybe whoever it was had left quietly. I
washed my hands, quickly avoiding my reflection in the mirror.
The weak light overhead made everything feel surreal, like a
scene out of a bad horror movie. Grabbing my bag,
I pushed the door open and stepped outside. That's when
I saw him. A man was leaning against my car,
(10:14):
pretending to check his phone. He was tall, with a
scruffy beard and low cap, adding to his mysterious vibe.
Something about the way he looked up at me sent
a jolt of unease through my chest. He hadn't been
there when I arrived. Can I help you? He looked up,
his expression unreadable, just waiting for a friend, he said,
(10:36):
I didn't respond Instead, I walked toward my car, keeping
a safe distance. My keys were in my hand and
I gripped them tightly, the jagged edges pressing into my palm.
But as I got closer, my stomach dropped. He wasn't moving.
He was casually leaning against the driver's side door, effectively
blocking my way. Hey, his voice casual, too casual for
(10:58):
someone I didn't know. In a hurry, I forced a small,
polite smile, even as my pulse quickened. Excuse me, I
need to get to my car, I said, keeping my
voice firm. He didn't budge. Instead, he tilted his head,
giving me an unsettling grin. You look like you've had
a long day. Maybe you should take a break before
hitting the road. It's not safe out there, you know.
(11:22):
I didn't answer. My mind was racing, searching for an out.
A parking lot was still empty, no witnesses, no backup.
I really need to go, I said again, this time
more forcefully. I stepped closer, hoping he'd take the hint
and move. He didn't. Instead, he pushed off the car, slightly,
closing the distance between us. Relax, he said, his voice
(11:46):
low and unnervingly calm. I just want to talk, No
need to be rude. At that moment, I knew I
had to act. I wasn't going to win a stand
off with this guy, not alone in an empty lot.
I took a deep breath, mustard all confidence I could,
and stepped toward him with a firm, authoritative tone move
I demanded, trying to project strength I didn't entirely feel.
(12:10):
The sudden assertiveness seemed to catch him off guard, and
he shifted back slightly, his grip on the situation faltering.
I seized the opportunity and quickly darted around him, wrenching
the passenger side door open and scrambling inside, immediately locking
the doors with shaking hands. I slid into the driver's
seat and started the engine. The man banged on the window,
(12:30):
his face twisted with anger. You didn't have to do that,
he yelled, his voice muffled through the glass. He slapped
the window once hard before backing away. For a split second,
I thought he might leave. Then he turned and stormed
toward a car parked a few spaces away. My heart
sank as he climbed in and started it, the headlights
(12:53):
lighting up the darkness. He wasn't done. I threw the
car into gear and tore out of the lot. The
man's car following close behind. The road stretched out ahead,
dark and empty. His headlights loomed in my rear view mirror,
uncomfortably close. I knew I couldn't let him follow me
to a secluded area or worse home. Every fiber of
(13:18):
my being urged me to keep going to find help.
I remembered something my mom used to say, if you're
in trouble, find the lights. I scanned the road ahead,
praying for a diner, a gas station, anything. Finally, I
spotted a well lit truck stop up ahead. It was
small but crowded, with several big rigs parked in the lot.
(13:40):
I swerved into the entrance, my tires screeching as I
pulled up near the front door. The man's car slowed
as he approached the lot, but he didn't follow me in. Instead,
he lingered just outside the entrance. I bolted out of
the car and into the building, the adrenaline making my
legs feel like jelly inside. The cashier and a few
trucks turned to look at me as I rushed in.
(14:02):
There's a man following me, I blurted out, he's outside
in a silver sedan. One of the truckers, a burly
guy in a flannel jacket, nodded and stood up. Stay here,
he said, walking toward the door. Another trucker followed their presence,
making me feel a shred of safety I hadn't felt
all night. I stayed near the counter, my eyes glued
(14:24):
to the parking lot. The man's car lingered for a
few moments longer before his headlights finally swung away, disappearing
into the night. The truckers returned a few minutes later,
confirming he was gone. If he comes back, we'll handle it,
the first one said, gruffly. I thanked them profusely, my
voice trembling. I stayed at the truck stop for over
(14:47):
an hour, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee, as I
had tried to steady my nerves. When I finally felt
safe enough to leave, I called a friend and stayed
on the phone the entire drive home day. I reported
the incident to the police, but without a license plate
number or a detailed description of the man, there wasn't
much they could do. Still, I walked away from the
(15:12):
experience with a powerful realization fear is unavoidable in moments
like that, but how you respond to it can make
all the difference. That night change the way I see
myself more than anything else. Gas stations, rest stops, and
empty parking lots. They're still unsettling, but I've learned the
value of acting despite fear. Freezing or being intimidated isn't
(15:35):
an option when your safety is on the line. It's
not about being fearless, it's about refusing to let fear
dictate your actions. Road trips feel different now, but not
because I'm scared. They're a reminder of what I'm capable of,
even in the most unsettling situations. And if there's one
thing I've learned, it's this Being prepared to stand your
(15:59):
ground even when your hands are shaking, can make all
the difference in keeping yourself safe.
As a teacher, my weekends are my sanctuary. They're my
time to recharge, plan for the week ahead, and maybe
indulge in a little me time. It was a sunny
Saturday afternoon and I was returning to Columbus, Ohio after
visiting a friend in a nearby town. I got so
caught up chatting over coffee that I totally forgot to
(00:24):
fill up the car, and by the time I hit
the road, my car's gas gauge was teetering dangerously close
to empty. I figured i'd stop at the first station
I saw. The station I pulled into looked like something
out of a time warp. The paint was peeling and
the pumps were clearly older models, but it was functional,
(00:45):
and I wasn't in the mood to be picky. A
small convenience store sat adjacent to the pumps, its windows
smudged but letting in enough light to make the interior
look relatively clean. To the right of the store, there
was a small outdoor area, a booth with a few
weather chairs. Sitting there was a man, his figure slouched
(01:06):
but his head upright watching. At first, I didn't think
much of it, Maybe he was just taking a break
but as I stepped out of my car, I noticed
something unsettling. He wasn't just sitting, he was staring. His
eyes were locked on my car or maybe me. I
brushed it off. Maybe he was waiting for someone, or
(01:29):
maybe he wasn't even aware of how intense his gaze looked. Still,
I felt a prickle of unease as I approached the
pump and started filling my tank. The sun was warm
on my back and the hum of the gas pump
filled the air, but it was impossible to shake the
feeling of being watched. Every time I looked toward the booth,
the man's eyes were still on me. He didn't even
(01:50):
pretend to look away. I told myself to stay calm.
Maybe he was just bored, or maybe he had a
habit of staring. Either way, I decided I wouldn't stick
around any longer than necessary. As the pump clicked to
signal the tank was full, I capped it off and
headed toward the convenience store to pay. The man was
(02:11):
still watching, his gaze following me. As I walked past
the booth, I kept my head high and avoided eye contact,
hoping to project confidence, even though my stomach churned with unease.
The lighting in the store was low, but it was clean,
with the subtle smell of coffee and cleaning supplies in
the air. A young attendant stood behind the counter, scrolling
(02:33):
on his phone. He barely looked up as I walked in,
muttering a half hearted hey. I handed him my card,
eager to finish the transaction and leave. As I waited
for the receipt, the door behind me chimed. My breath caught.
The man from the booth had entered. His boots echoed
against the tile floor as he approached the counter, stopping
(02:54):
just a few feet away from me. I could feel
his presence like a weight on my shoulders. He said,
low and gravelly. You driving that blue hatchback out there? Yeah?
Why nice car, he said, his lips curling into a
thin smile. Reliable. Ah, yeah, it gets me where I
need to go, I replied, keeping it polite but distant.
(03:16):
You traveling alone, he asked casually, But the question hit
me like a slap. My mind raced, No, my boyfriend's
in the car. He's just on a call. The man's
smile didn't falter. That's so yep, I said, quickly, grabbing
my cart and receipt have a good day. I turned
and walked toward the door, my heart racing in my chest.
(03:38):
As I stepped outside, I resisted the urge to look back,
focusing instead on reaching my car. I climbed in, locked
the doors, and started the engine. In my rear view mirror,
I saw the man exit the store and returned to
the booth. He sat down, his eyes still fixed on me.
I pulled out of the gas station and onto the highway,
relieved to be putting distance between myself and that unnerving encounter.
(04:02):
But as the miles stretched on, I noticed headlights in
my rear view mirror a pickup truck. It was far
enough back that I couldn't see the driver, but something
about it felt wrong. When I changed lanes, so did
the truck. When I sped up, it matched my pace.
My unease turned to panic. This wasn't a coincidence. The
(04:22):
man was following me. The highway was eerily empty, with
no exits in sight. I gripped the wheel tightly, trying
to stay calm. Up ahead, I spotted a rest area.
It wasn't much, just a small lot with a few
picnic tables and vending machines, but it was well lit
and had a couple of cars parked there. I decided
(04:43):
to take my chances. I signaled and pulled into the lot,
parking near a family sitting at one of the tables.
The pickup truck pulled into the lot, rolling to a
stop just a few feet from my car. I felt
a sickening churn in my stomach as I watched the
man get outitated for a moment, his eyes locking on
me as I stood by the family. Without a word,
(05:04):
he headed toward the restroom, his eyes hanging on me
just enough to unsettle me. I turned to the family
and explained what had happened. They were kind, their concern
evident as they invited me to sit with them. You're
safe here, the father said, reassuring me, we won't let
anything happen to you. I stayed close to them, grateful
(05:26):
for their company as we made small talk, their warmth
soothing the chill of my anxiety. A few minutes later,
the man emerged from the restroom. He looked in my direction,
His unreadable eyes met mine for a moment before he
turned and walked to his pickup. He climbed in and
for what felt like hours. He just sat there. My
(05:48):
pulse quickened as I waited to see what he'd do. Finally,
he pulled out of the lot and disappeared down the highway.
The family stayed with me until I felt safe enough
to get back on the road. It was their kindness
that anchored me during what had been one of the
most unnerving nights of my life. After about twenty minutes,
(06:09):
I got back in my car and resumed my drive.
Every set of headlights behind me made my pulse quicken,
and every passing car felt like a potential threat. When
I finally pulled into my driveway, I locked all the
doors and windows and sat in my living room trying
to process what had happened. The man's face and the
(06:30):
truck's headlights haunted me that night. What were his intentions?
Was he just trying to scare me or was it
something worse? I'll never know for sure, and while I'm
grateful I got away unscathed, I've learned that sometimes danger
is closer than you think. I've always enjoyed road trips.
(06:58):
As a librarian, I spent a lot of my time indoors,
surrounded by books and quiet, and there's nothing quite like
the freedom of cruising the open road with a playlist
of my favorite songs and no set agenda. That day,
I decided to take a solo trip through North Carolina.
I'd heard Ashville was a must see, so I mapped
out my route, packed some snacks, and hit the highway.
(07:22):
It was around eight pm when I realized I needed
a break. I'd been driving for hours and hadn't seen
much besides trees and winding roads. When I spotted a
gas station sign ahead, I decided it was time to
stretch my legs and use the restroom. The place wasn't much,
a small, worn out building with a single pump out front,
(07:43):
but it was open, and that was all that mattered.
I pulled into the lot, noticing how deserted it was.
There were no other cars, just my little hatchback and
the faint glow of a flickering Neon open sign. The
building looked older, with peeling pain and a cracked window
near the entrance. The restroom was around the side, marked
(08:04):
by a rusted sign that read ladies. I grabbed my bag,
locked my car, and headed toward it. The restroom door
creaked as I pushed it open, and I was greeted
by the harsh buzz of a fluorescent light overhead. It
wasn't the cleanest place, but I'd seen worse on road trips.
There were two stalls and a single sink with a
(08:25):
cloudy mirror above it. I chose the cleaner looking stall,
set my bag on the hook, and locked the door
behind me. As I sat there, I couldn't help but
notice how quiet it was, the kind of silence that
feels unnatural, like the calm before a storm, when everything
seems to halt. I figured it wasn't worth worrying about,
(08:47):
telling myself i'd spent too much time reading thrillers. But
then I heard a faint creak, like someone stepping on
the linoleum floor. I froze, listening closely. The sound came again,
followed by soft shuffle of footsteps. Someone had entered the restroom.
I looked at the gap beneath the stall door, expecting
to see feet, but there was nothing. Then the footsteps
(09:10):
stopped right in front of my stall. My breath caught
as I watched the shadow shift and the stall door rattled,
as if someone was testing the lock. Occupied. I said,
my voice shaky, whoever it was didn't respond. The shadow
lingered for a moment, then moved away. I stayed perfectly still,
(09:31):
waiting to hear the sound of the door opening and closing,
signaling they had left, but it never came. The silence
returned heavier than before. Gathering my courage, I flushed and
unlatched the door. The restroom was empty. I checked both stalls, nothing.
The only exit was the door I had entered through.
A chill ran through me, but I told myself it
(09:53):
was nothing. Maybe whoever it was had left quietly. I
washed my hands, quickly avoiding my reflection in the mirror.
The weak light overhead made everything feel surreal, like a
scene out of a bad horror movie. Grabbing my bag,
I pushed the door open and stepped outside. That's when
I saw him. A man was leaning against my car,
(10:14):
pretending to check his phone. He was tall, with a
scruffy beard and low cap, adding to his mysterious vibe.
Something about the way he looked up at me sent
a jolt of unease through my chest. He hadn't been
there when I arrived. Can I help you? He looked up,
his expression unreadable, just waiting for a friend, he said,
(10:36):
I didn't respond Instead, I walked toward my car, keeping
a safe distance. My keys were in my hand and
I gripped them tightly, the jagged edges pressing into my palm.
But as I got closer, my stomach dropped. He wasn't moving.
He was casually leaning against the driver's side door, effectively
blocking my way. Hey, his voice casual, too casual for
(10:58):
someone I didn't know. In a hurry, I forced a small,
polite smile, even as my pulse quickened. Excuse me, I
need to get to my car, I said, keeping my
voice firm. He didn't budge. Instead, he tilted his head,
giving me an unsettling grin. You look like you've had
a long day. Maybe you should take a break before
hitting the road. It's not safe out there, you know.
(11:22):
I didn't answer. My mind was racing, searching for an out.
A parking lot was still empty, no witnesses, no backup.
I really need to go, I said again, this time
more forcefully. I stepped closer, hoping he'd take the hint
and move. He didn't. Instead, he pushed off the car, slightly,
closing the distance between us. Relax, he said, his voice
(11:46):
low and unnervingly calm. I just want to talk, No
need to be rude. At that moment, I knew I
had to act. I wasn't going to win a stand
off with this guy, not alone in an empty lot.
I took a deep breath, mustard all confidence I could,
and stepped toward him with a firm, authoritative tone move
I demanded, trying to project strength I didn't entirely feel.
(12:10):
The sudden assertiveness seemed to catch him off guard, and
he shifted back slightly, his grip on the situation faltering.
I seized the opportunity and quickly darted around him, wrenching
the passenger side door open and scrambling inside, immediately locking
the doors with shaking hands. I slid into the driver's
seat and started the engine. The man banged on the window,
(12:30):
his face twisted with anger. You didn't have to do that,
he yelled, his voice muffled through the glass. He slapped
the window once hard before backing away. For a split second,
I thought he might leave. Then he turned and stormed
toward a car parked a few spaces away. My heart
sank as he climbed in and started it, the headlights
(12:53):
lighting up the darkness. He wasn't done. I threw the
car into gear and tore out of the lot. The
man's car following close behind. The road stretched out ahead,
dark and empty. His headlights loomed in my rear view mirror,
uncomfortably close. I knew I couldn't let him follow me
to a secluded area or worse home. Every fiber of
(13:18):
my being urged me to keep going to find help.
I remembered something my mom used to say, if you're
in trouble, find the lights. I scanned the road ahead,
praying for a diner, a gas station, anything. Finally, I
spotted a well lit truck stop up ahead. It was
small but crowded, with several big rigs parked in the lot.
(13:40):
I swerved into the entrance, my tires screeching as I
pulled up near the front door. The man's car slowed
as he approached the lot, but he didn't follow me in. Instead,
he lingered just outside the entrance. I bolted out of
the car and into the building, the adrenaline making my
legs feel like jelly inside. The cashier and a few
trucks turned to look at me as I rushed in.
(14:02):
There's a man following me, I blurted out, he's outside
in a silver sedan. One of the truckers, a burly
guy in a flannel jacket, nodded and stood up. Stay here,
he said, walking toward the door. Another trucker followed their presence,
making me feel a shred of safety I hadn't felt
all night. I stayed near the counter, my eyes glued
(14:24):
to the parking lot. The man's car lingered for a
few moments longer before his headlights finally swung away, disappearing
into the night. The truckers returned a few minutes later,
confirming he was gone. If he comes back, we'll handle it,
the first one said, gruffly. I thanked them profusely, my
voice trembling. I stayed at the truck stop for over
(14:47):
an hour, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee, as I
had tried to steady my nerves. When I finally felt
safe enough to leave, I called a friend and stayed
on the phone the entire drive home day. I reported
the incident to the police, but without a license plate
number or a detailed description of the man, there wasn't
much they could do. Still, I walked away from the
(15:12):
experience with a powerful realization fear is unavoidable in moments
like that, but how you respond to it can make
all the difference. That night change the way I see
myself more than anything else. Gas stations, rest stops, and
empty parking lots. They're still unsettling, but I've learned the
value of acting despite fear. Freezing or being intimidated isn't
(15:35):
an option when your safety is on the line. It's
not about being fearless, it's about refusing to let fear
dictate your actions. Road trips feel different now, but not
because I'm scared. They're a reminder of what I'm capable of,
even in the most unsettling situations. And if there's one
thing I've learned, it's this Being prepared to stand your
(15:59):
ground even when your hands are shaking, can make all
the difference in keeping yourself safe.
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Special Summer Offer: Exclusively on Apple Podcasts, try our Dateline Premium subscription completely free for one month! With Dateline Premium, you get every episode ad-free plus exclusive bonus content.
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!