It was at a suburban satellite campus of a local university. It was ten at night at the end of summer, maybe a Friday night, because I was the only one there. I was studying in the computer lab. Students had an access card which permitted after hours entry and exit. I was leaving, between the inner and outer door, when my intuition came to me. The feeling that I was in danger washed over me and I repositioned my purse and shoulder bag, and held my keys for maximum efficient movement.

I was parked as close to the building as possible, about five car lengths. As I emerged, I looked down into the bottom quadrant of the parking lot, the dark unlit area, and from among the shadows came this large Cadillac, easing along, as if not to startle me. The car was headed directly for my car. My car was in a parallel line with it and me.

I did not look twice, did not try to get a license plate, did not see who was driving. My keys were ready and I darted for my car, and started it up immediately. I did a sharp U-turn, and as I did so he took a caddy-corner line to cut me off. He sped up, but I beat him out of the lot and drove down the street very quickly. I just wanted to lose him and stay alive.

Knowing what I know now about police responsiveness, I feel as if I’m only alive because I took responsibility for my own survival and drove—used the tool at my disposal—instead of calling the police and hoping to be rescued. I did call Campus Security when I got home, and they wanted to know the license, and get a physical description of the driver. Useless—I believe in abiding by my intuition and not allowing our society’s brainwashing and compliance efforts to lull me into a sense of complaisance that will assure that I’m a readymade victim. Fuck that shit!