Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
When I was about 23, I was walking down my street at a little after dusk. I saw a van approaching a little ahead, but without any lights on. I didn’t think much of it, since it was still early in the evening.
Then, the van slowed down and almost started creeping up on me as I approached a part of the sidewalk that was boxed in by a tall fence. That’s when I knew something was up.
For me to keep walking, I’d have to go between the wall and the van. In the little time it took me to walk a couple of steps, as the van was getting close, I noticed that the side door was slowly sliding open.
The one thought in my mind was, why isn’t the light turning on inside the van? When you open the door of a vehicle, the light should come on inside it. Unless you deliberately switch that off.
So I just took off and ran to the median in between the lanes of traffic. Yes, I ran in front of the van and across the street. I’d rather be roadkill than let whoever was in the van get me.
Immediately, the van took off like someone lit it on fire. From a slow crawl to full speed. As I looked after it to check the plates. I noticed it had no plates. And still no lights. I called 9-1-1, of course.
They sent cars out and didn’t find the van.
I never had anything like this happen again and I’m just an ordinary person, so I don’t suspect it was targeted. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.