I was kidnapped by a panhandler.

It was a sunny day in March 2015. I’d been driving for less than an hour, headed for the coast. I was a college student, and Spring Break was a few days away. I was traveling alone, and my plan was to car-camp my way across the country, from my school in North Florida to the Grand Canyon in Arizona, where I had a long-standing invitation to meet up with some friends in a week or so.<br><br>I’d settled into my cruise control and music, feeling good about the long drive ahead, when the first incident happened. It was a panhandler, standing on the side of the road with a cardboard sign, holding an empty gas can. He was standing on the right side of the road, so I pulled to the right and stopped to see if he was really panhandling or just standing on the road. After all, I had a tank full of gas. The man walked up to the window, and asked me what I was doing. I said, “I’m just checking to see what’s up here.” <br><br>He said, “Something’s up. Nice car you got there.” I immediately didn’t like the way he was looking at the vehicle, so when he asked me for money I just laughed and said, “No, I’m broke. I’m a college student.” This made him mad. He said, “What, you think you’re better than me?” I said, “No... no... I’m not better than you.” He repeated the question, louder, and I said, “Okay, you’re better than me” and drove off. <br><br>That was strange. <br><br>I continued driving for another hour, stopped at the next big city, and visited a local museum for a few hours. I got back on the road, and it wasn’t long before I was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and an older car pulled up next to mine. I didn’t think much of it, but the driver, a woman next to me, made eye contact and asked how long I’d been driving. I told her a few hours. She said, “You’re probably feeling a little tired. You should pull over and rest.” I laughed, but she was insistent. She kept waving me to pull over. <br><br>I thought it was funny, and I had been having a talk with the other drivers on the road through gestures. I’d been having a good time, and I thought this lady was just goofing off. But then, she started waving the driver behind her to wave me over, too. Now, the streets were wide open at this point. The sky was clear, the road was flat and wide and open. There were no other cars except the woman, myself, and the guy behind her. <br><br>I just pretended I didn’t see them, and kept on driving. A few miles later the woman caught up with me again, and said, “You’d better pull over and rest” and she pointed to the next exit. I said, “I will,” and she said, “Pull over and rest, or I’ll call the police!” I asked her what was going on. <br><br>She said, “Just pull over. You’re tired. You’re weaving.” I said, “I’m not tired. I haven’t been driving long. Anyway, I’ve got a long way to go. It’s not safe to pull over out here. I’ll drive into the next town and pull over there. But thank you for your concern.” She said, “You’d better pull over in the next town, then.” <br><br>I said, “I will. Don’t worry about me.” She must have realized I wasn’t going to stop because she pulled up to me at the next exit and waved at me to follow her. A black Escalade, with a man in the back seat, pulled up next to her and then next to me, and a man in the back seat was waving me to pull over. <br><br>I drove past them, and they stayed in the exit for a few seconds, then got back on the highway to follow me. I called 911 to report that a lady was trying to get me to pull over and the guy in the Escalade was threatening me, and the dispatcher said not to pull over until I got to the next town. I asked her if she could see the Escalade on the camera, and she said no. I told her the license plate number, which I remembered by repeating it out loud several times. <br><br>She told me to stay calm, and said, “We’re going to send someone to your location.” I repeated my location, mile marker by mile marker, and I estimated the time it would take to reach the next town. She agreed, and said it would be about a half hour before the police car could reach me. <br><br>I said, “Okay... is the lady still on camera?” She said, “Yes... the lady is still following you... and there is a man in the purple Escalade. It looks like you’re surrounded.” I said, “What? Behind me?” and the dispatcher said, “Yes, there is a man behind you, in a red truck.” <br><br>I said, “Where did he come from?” And she said, “He pulled up behind you just now.” I turned to look, and the guy was looking right at me. I looked at the lady, and she was looking at me, and the guy in the Escalade was looking at me. I said, “I think they’re going to try something.” <br><br>She said, “We’re trying to get someone there... but I want you to know that it’s going to be at least a half hour before the police car can get there. You are not safe. If you feel your life is in danger, you need to do something.” I said, “My life is in danger. They’re trying to get me to pull over. I’m going to wait until they make their move, and then I’m going to do something. <br><br>Tell the officer I’m doing this on purpose. I’m trying to throw them off. I’m trying to shake them, and I’m trying to lose them. If you lose me on camera, I’m just trying to throw them off. Don’t let them know, but you can track me by GPS, right?” <br><br>This was a new system at the time, but my phone had GPS tracking. I’d tested it out by having a friend call the police and report a crime happening at my location, just to be sure it worked. The dispatcher said, “Yes, I can track you... we’ve got a lock on your location... let me know what you’re going to do.” <br><br>I said, “I’m going to drive up to the next exit, and then I’m going to pretend I’m going to stop. I’m going to signal, and then when they all pull up to the stop sign in front of me I’m just going to go.” She said, “Okay, that sounds like a good plan... but be careful.” <br><br>I said, “I’m in control. I don’t think they know what I’m planning.” She said, “Be careful. They look angry.” I said, “I will.” <br><br>I drove up to the next exit, and signaled that I was turning. I slowed down, and the lady in front of me pulled up to the stop sign, and the guy in the Escalade pulled up behind her, and the guy in the red truck pulled up behind him. <br><br>I floored it, and sped past them all, watching in my rear view as the red truck finally caught up, and the guy was following me again. I could see by his facial expression that he was mad. I sped up to the next exit, and then I slowed down and prepared to lose him. I drove up to the green light, and at the last second gunned the gas. <br><br>I sped through the intersection, and looked back to see the guy in the red truck blow through the red light behind me. I dodged and weaved through the streets, finally turning onto a side street that I hoped would lose him. I drove through the quiet neighborhood, and pulled into a driveway, and parked my car just as the red truck pulled up behind me. <br><br>I ran inside, and the guy pounded on the door, yelling at me to come out. I was shaking, and crying, and I called the police back. I told them my location, and the dispatcher said, “Help is on the way.” <br><br>After a few minutes the guy left, and I peeked outside. I didn’t see anyone, but it was dark, and the street was poorly lit. I peeked again, and I saw a man standing behind the tree, watching me. I realized this was probably a trap, so I looked for another way out. I slipped out the back door, and ran down the street. <br><br>I finally found a police car, and ran up to him. I was a mess. The cop rolled down the window, and I said, “I’ve been kidnapped! They’re after me.” The cop looked at me, surprised, and said, “What do you mean you’ve been kidnapped?” And I just broke down and started crying. <br><br>He looked concerned, and he said, “Okay... okay, little lady... let’s get you out of here.” He called for backup, and a female officer showed up, and took me aside to talk to me. I was still crying, and I couldn’t stop. <br><br>The cop asked me what happened, and I tried to explain, but what came out was just a bunch of babble. She said, “Okay... it’s okay... slow down... just tell me what happened.” I told her the whole story, and when I was finished she gave me a concerned look.