A few days ago, I was dropping off a friend at her house off of K 7 and Johnson Drive around midnight. After looking both directions and only seeing a single set of headlights a ways down the road, I turned off her street and began my trip home. As I was going through the infamous roundabouts on Johnson Drive, I looked into my rearview mirror and saw a large truck, moving closer and much faster than it should have been. I didn’t think much of it, only that it was someone in a hurry to get home before their curfew.

I merged onto K 7, and, before I knew it, the same headlights were behind me again, only this time moving nearly 80 miles per hour. I switched lanes to get out of the truck’s way, but the vehicle got into the same lane as me, flashing its brights and getting dangerously close to my car. After what seemed to be an eternity, the only thing I was able to see in my rearview mirror was the bright lights of the truck.

I began to think this was someone trying to pull a bad joke. However, as I kept switching lanes to get away from the speeding truck, it merged right behind me, flashing its brights repeatedly.

As I approached the exit to get off onto 83rd Street, I began to remember the things my dad, a police officer of nearly two decades, told me to do in the slight chance something like this had ever happened. I exited onto 83rd Street and turned into the Sonic that many people would sit outside and visit at. I turned into the parking lot and circled it, hoping the truck would lose interest or possibly lose sight of me. I turned to exit, but as soon as I was nearly onto 83rd Street, the truck began to barrel towards me, stopping just behind my car, flashing the bright lights again.

At this point, I had no idea what to do. My phone was in the backseat of my car in a bag, and I was too worried to stop my car to take the five seconds to reach back and grab it. I was looking frantically for somewhere to go when I saw the lights at the 3&2 Ballpark were still on, and many people were leaving after a long night of baseball. I drove into the parking lot, circled it, and left before the truck could follow me due to the growing traffic exiting the ballpark. I turned back onto 83rd Street and began to go home, looking back into my mirror to see if the truck had found my car again. For the first time in my short time as a driver, I was happy to see nothing but darkness behind my car as I returned home.

As I sat in my car driving down the street I began to silently thank my dad for teaching me to be observant when I drive and watch for strange and potentially dangerous situations. I began to wonder why my car was chosen, thinking back to anything I could’ve done to anger the driver, but my mind was blank. I began to assume that I was followed due to my car, as someone who drives a Ford F-150 would be less likely to be followed than someone who drives a small Kia Optima like myself.

This situation reminded me of the dangers of driving alone that have become increasingly prevalent. All my life, my parents told me to never let my sister go anywhere alone, especially driving. I would usually laugh it off, but after this experience, knowing that anyone could be targeted, I started to listen to my parents’ advice more carefully.

No matter where you are, try to drive with a friend or a family member. If you can’t, pay attention to your surroundings and look for potential places to find safety. Be observant. If I wasn’t paying attention to the lights in my rearview mirror, I don’t know what could’ve happened. I am just glad I noticed the truck following me before I drove down the dark and empty road home.