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When I was in college in Louisiana, I was driving on a road in the country late one night. My parents lived in the country and I had been at their house and was driving back to town. I was on a two lane road that was fairly curvy and had few straightaways to pass anyone.

I got behind a pickup truck that was doing about 30 mph in a 55 mph zone. As the road would twist and turn, I wasn't able to pass him. However, whenever any straight section of road came up and I tried to pass, he'd speed up to prevent me from passing until either the road started to turn again or another car was coming the other way, at which time I'd slow down and get back behind the truck, when he'd then slow down back to about 30 mph.

After about 15 minutes of this, he finally started slowing down even more but would, again, prevent me from passing. On one passing attempt he sped up and ran me off the road, pulling his truck in front of my car after I was stopped.

Three men in their early 20s then got out of the truck and started advancing toward me, not saying a word. I carried a Taurus 9mm in my car (which was legal in LA at the time). I pulled my 9mm out, drew on the men, and told them "I think you want to get back in your truck and leave". Luckily they saw the wisdom of my words, put up their hands, got back in their truck, and left.

I had just gotten home from Iraq (Gulf War, this would have been in '91) a couple of months earlier, so had no question that I would have fired if I'd been forced to do so. I had to sit there for about 10 minutes after they left to let the adrenaline crash pass.