Old Skool MoFo: Psycho Indian story

(This is a reader submitted story. If you want to see your own old skool shenanigans in this space, submit them.)

It was our standard, warm summer evening. It was about midnight on a Friday night, and me and my prankster pals were just wrapping up the night with our last prank of the evening. We were sitting in the parking lot of a grocery store just chillin’ and snackin’ and trying to think of what prank to pull next, when suddenly a big ass, shitty, rusty boat of a car with reservation plates pulls up along next to us, and shouts something out. I was sitting in the passenger seat with my windows down, and they were right next to me.

Not having a clue what it was they said, I flipped them off and we began to roll. None of us were thinking anything of it, when I looked in the rear-view mirror about a block away from the grocery store, and the same piece of shit car was right on our ass. The thing was JAMMED full of Indians, at least 8 or 9, and one of them was hanging out the front passenger side window holding a hatchet!

“Shit, shit! Fucking go!” I yelled. Everyone turned around and saw what was going on, and all the people in our back seat ducked down. It took us all by surprise.

“CRACK!” I turned around to see a hole in the rear window of our car and a hatchet laying on the floor in the back seat. By this time we were going about 55 MPH weaving in and out of traffic down a busy street, already 20 miles over the speed limit, and the car was still on our ass, and they looked like they were ready to throw something else at us. I saw a giant bald, basketball-shaped head peering out the window of the Indians’ car, and he had a bigger hatchet in his hand. I alerted everybody to be prepared, and everyone ducked down. The light ahead was red, so we ran it (barely avoiding a collision). I looked behind us and the Indians didn’t make it through.

I breathed a sigh of relief and decided that we should all head over to my house to hang out for awhile. I had no desire to be on the streets anymore that night. We decided to take the shortest route possible, which was cutting through the mall parking lot. We were driving through the dark, abandoned lot when out of nowhere the Indians’ car appears up ahead. We were at least a couple miles from where we had lost them, and now they were heading right for us again, brights on and all. Our driver put the car into reverse and floored it. We were driving backwards through the mall parking lot at a very high speed, not really knowing where we were going.

Our driver finally got the car turned around, turned off his headlights, and sped into a nearby residential area. The Indians were again right on our ass. Were were in a Plymouth Acclaim, which had poor acceleration, but luckily their car wasn’t any better. We were weaving in and out of yards, taking turns down other streets without hesitation at well over 50 mph. The whole time I was blinded by the brights reflecting off our mirrors from the Indians’ car. We kept racing through the maze of streets, and next thing we knew they were no longer behind us. We looked around, but saw nothing in sight.

We cautiously drove around the neighborhood trying to find a way out. We finally saw a main road, and headed towards it. We again felt relief, and we decided that they must have given up. And even if they hadn’t, we saw no way that they could find us again.

We were driving down the main road, now several miles from where we wanted to go, when suddenly we saw the car drive past us going the other direction. We all turned around to watch the car slow down…and flip a U. Within minutes they were again on our ass, just as before. We sped through traffic again, weaving in and out of cars, and eventually hit some 2-lane secondary roads. We were scared for our lives by this time and had no idea why they were still after us or what they planned to do if they caught us. And we didn’t want to stick around to find out. We decided to try to lose them in the next town, and then take the secondary road back. We were driving down the highway at about 85 mph, when we saw them gaining on us. They pulled into the no-passing zone and started to pass us. There was a car coming fast right towards them in the other lane, and at the time I was actually hoping for a head-on collision.

Somehow they avoided a collision and passed us and started to pull in front of us. They turned their car sideways, taking up our entire lane and part of the other. We slammed on the breaks and started to flip a U, when a Durango came barreling down the opposite way we had been going, and nailed the front end of the Indians’ car, sending it around in circles several times. The Durango just kept going. The Indians were already stepping out of the car, and one of them had a rifle. Just as we started to speed away back to where we had come from (hoping to never hear about this again), a bullet whizzed by the car and nailed the passenger side mirror, shattering the glass and taking a chunk of the car with it. All only inches from my face.

We got back to my house about 10 minutes later, pulled into my garage, closed the door, and sat in the car in silence for the next 15 minutes. Then everyone just crashed at my place. We analyzed the situation we were just in, realized how crazy it was, and decided not to tell anyone about it for fear for our lives.

We never heard about any of it again. Never read anything in the news, never saw nor heard from any of the Indians again.

That’s my story that started out as a usual summer night. The Indians somehow read our minds, knowing exactly where we were going. Maybe it was just luck, but somehow I don’t see how. It’s one thing to have a car load of crazy bastards chasing you, it’s another thing when they have some bizarre tracking skills. The incident took me completely by surprise, and it’s something that’s I’ll likely never forget. I consider myself lucky that we survived.


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