Once, when I was driving the back road from Sedona north to Flagstaff, I passed a car whose driver apparently didn’t like it. He passed me very close and drove about a quarter mile ahead, then abruptly did a u-turn (on the narrow two-lane road) and headed straight for me. I pulled over to the side and stopped, thinking he’d stop before he reached me, but he kept coming until he was within a few feet, then swerved, barely missing me, turned around again, drove past me a way, then repeated what he had the first time. When he passed me that second time, I hit the gas and raced ahead as fast as I could, knowing there was a turnoff to the expressway not far ahead. But the mountain air on that road is thin, and my car started missing—I couldn’t pick up any decent speed. He followed me closely for a few miles, and when I saw the turnoff, I did a fast right and got on the expressway. He didn’t follow me.
My heart raced for half an hour.