When my dad was about seventeen, he and a couple of friends had drove up to a hangout that was said to be haunted. They had been there for about an hour to see if what they heard did happen, but it didn't, so they started to leave. When they got to the car,  my dad had noticed a big pick-up truck sitting in the ditch to the right. When he drove past it, the truck had roared out of the ditch and started chasing my dad and his friends. The truck had turned on its headlights as if to tell them to pull over. the four of them didn't know what to do, so my dad just floored it, and sped off.

The truck was right behind him though. They had drove through corn fields, went in circles, and were almost out of gas. My dad had gotten a little edge on him, and he realized this was his chance to escape. He pushed the gas as hard as he could, and left the truck in its dust. My dad explained how he couldn't have asked for help because all the people in the town where considered to be canibals. This story has really made a difference in the choices I make with my friends now.

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