The Roadside Killer

Several years back, on a rural stretch of Highway 1, I delivered Christina into the hands of a roadside killer... or so the story would have gone if Christina had had her way.

We were driving from San Jose to San Luis Obispo on the scenic Highway 1 along the coast. We had gotten a late start on the day, so we hadn't made it too far past Big Sur when the sun started to set.

We had just come out of a curvy area of the coast perched high on the rocky cliffs and into a straight section. Despite the fact the Highway 1 is tourist route, it felt very desolate. Nobody was out there.

Not too far off, in the middle of the road I saw something. It was a man holding some jumper cables. He was standing near a parked car.

It was dusk, no other cars were on the road, and it just seemed like a desperate situation. So I slowed and pulled to the side of the road behind his car, thinking that I might be able to help him by calling a tow truck and quickly get back on our way.

I started rolling down my window as he approached the car. As he got closer, I got a better look at him and I suddenly had second thoughts. Something was off about the guy — the way he looked, the way he moved, the way he was dressed. He was totally sketchy.

My intuition was telling me to leave right away, but my conscience was telling me that stranding somebody on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere just because I didn't like the way he looked was not cool.

But I didn't have to wrestle with that decision for very long at all because he was at my window in no time. And by "at my window", I really mean inches from my face, completely violating my personal space with his head and arms inside the car. It was one of those "oh shit" moments when you suddenly realize how vulnerable you've made yourself. I instinctively pulled my body away from him and reversed the direction of the window. His demeanor changed and he suddenly looked a little confused and maybe a bit offended.

Whoops. Did I over-react? Was I being a dick? Maybe this guy was just excited that I pulled over, or maybe he's just a close talker. Once again, my conscience got the best of me and I stopped rolling the window up at about half way. He must have gotten the message because he backed off a bit. His head was now outside of the car, which made me feel a lot better, but his hands were resting on the window—still way to close for comfort.

He was talking, but I wasn't able to hear much of what he was saying over the sound of my better judgment screaming at me to "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!".

I remember looking at his hand and thinking that if I wasn't careful, it could be around my neck in an instant. I either needed to be totally agreeable and compliant until I could get his hand away from my face, or I needed to hit the gas. I did some quick math and realized that unfortunately, hitting the gas was going to result in either me running him over, or hitting the car in front of us. So, I decided suppress my urge to bolt and just stay cool...

Me:  Do you need help? Is your car broken down? 

Him: Yes.

Me: You have cables, do you want me to pull up next to your car and I can jump it? <Pointing at the car in front of us>

Him: Oh... uh... that's not my car.

Me: Huh? Who's car is that?

Him: ... I don't know.

I looked around. Nobody else was near us. There were no other cars within view. We were next to a cliff and there was no beach access.

Me: Well, where is your car then?

Him: Uh... It's just a little ways off the road <pointing behind us to a wooded area on the non-ocean side of the road>

Me: I don't see it.

Him: Yeah, it's just a little ways off the road. We can walk there.

Me: ...

Him: I'll need your wife to get out of the car.

Me: Huh?

Him: I'll need your wife to get out of the car now.

Yeah, that's what I thought he said. We were clearly headed for trouble. But that goddamn hand was still right there. Right next to my face. So I decided, if he wasn't going to give me any space, I was going to have to create some.

I looked at Christina. She hadn't said anything this whole time, and I figured she was probably just as freaked out as I was. She said, "Yeah, sure. I'll get out.", which kind of surprised me. But then I realized... she was thinking the same exact thing that I was. This guy was way too close and we needed to get some distance fast.

But there was no way I was going to let her get out of that car. So, as she reached for the handle to open her door, I said, "Yeah, that's a great idea. Let me actually just turn the car around and get on the other side of the road just in case your cables reach."

The man lifted his hands off the window and took a step back. Immediately, I cracked the wheel and gunned it, narrowly missing him and the car in front of us. When I got about 20 feet down the road, I looked behind us. He was just standing there holding the cables in the middle of the road—right where we had left him. We were safe. I took in a deep breathe and exhaled slowly while I watched him get smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror. Christina turned around in her seat and looked out the rear window.

We had just cheated death. My head was hot and I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins and I could feel sweat forming on my brow. I wanted to confess my love to Christina, howl at the moon, and cry all at once.

And just as I was about to turn to Christina to see how she was doing she yelled, "WAIT... IAN!! What are you doing?!? I thought we were going to give that guy a jump. HIS CAR'S BROKEN DOWN!"