NOTE: This chapter has been broken into two parts to fit Tapas guidelines for episode length. Be sure to check out the previous episode. This is part 2 of 2.

Sure enough, I heard a crunching sound from behind as I also felt a sudden surge of acceleration. The powerful truck was actually pushing me down the road faster than my Porsche could accelerate on its own. I felt the acceleration decrease suddenly, then heard another crunch and felt the push again. The maniac in the truck was toying with me, ramming the little roadster, then backing off, then ramming it again. 

On the third impact the rear end of the Boxster started sliding back and forth wildly, then the car went fully sideways. As I was sliding down the road I felt terror as I saw the push bar on the big Dodge's front end bearing down on the driver’s door of my car. I braced for the impact, but it never came: The Boxster had continued to spin around so that it was facing back up the hill, and just as it had done so the driver of the Dodge had tried to ram me broadside and missed. I was now facing back up the hill, and I could hear the tires squealing on the big truck as it was coming to a halt behind me. Quickly, I found first gear, redlined the engine, dumped the clutch, and was flying back up the hill, heading back toward the mountaintop hillbilly bar where this mess had all started. 

I was too focused on driving to pay any attention to the rearview mirror. A loud honking horn that sounded exactly like a freight train scared the bejesus out of me. A quick glance in the mirror showed that the big Dodge had managed to turn around and was now pursuing me again, black smoke belching from the stack. It was still quite a way back but the distance was closing quickly. 

I could not believe how fast that truck was! I mean, my Boxster was a GTS 4.0 model, and its 400 horsepower and light weight meant that it could usually out-accelerate nearly anything that I wanted it to, but this big pickup truck was catching up to me like I was parked. There was nothing for it: I absolutely had to get off this straight, smooth highway so that I could lose the truck in the turns. 

As I rounded the curve again the bar where the trouble had started came into view, and I could see there was already a police car and ambulance in the parking lot with lights flashing, likely tending to the two jokers that I had previously taken down. I briefly considered pulling into the lot and asking the cops for help but decided against it. I had a feeling that in this small town the police wouldn’t be any friendlier to ‘my kind’ than my attackers were. I also thought about the campground, but it was simply too far away. I’d never make it there before that truck caught up to me. A glance in the mirror showed that the Dodge was now only about 200 metres behind me and still catching up. 

I was really starting to be scared now. I was losing any hope of escaping these rednecks when I saw yellow light over the road ahead, and a sign that said ‘Scenic lookoff next right’.  Yes!!! I remembered the lookoff - I had been there with my friends from the campground the day before. It was quite boring, really, just a paved area at the top of the mountain looking out over the valley and the lake far below, with a waist high guard rail placed to prevent people from driving off the cliff. There was a large hole in this guard rail where somebody had apparently gone off before, and a rickety wooden buck made from a few pieces of 2x4 lumber were placed to block off the broken section until it could be repaired properly by the parks department.

Most importantly, though, the lookoff had a long, curvy, two-lane road leading into it, roughly 5 kilometres long. I remembered thinking yesterday how fun it would be to open up the Porsche on this road, and it looked like today I was going to have the chance. 

A quick glance back showed me that the truck was now only about 25 metres back and still gaining. I was going to have to execute this manoeuvre perfectly, there would be no second chance. Just as I was getting to the turn-off I nailed the brake pedal as hard as I could and hooked the steering wheel hard to the right. The car started sliding sideways and the big Dodge flew past me, all four tires locked up as its driver was trying to stop, missing me by a hair. Before my car came to a stop it was lined up perfectly with the turn off, so I floored the gas and took off down the road toward the lookoff. 

Here the Boxster and I were both in our element. I had no doubt that the 5,000 kilogram Dodge would never be able to take these turns at the speeds that I was. I was almost enjoying myself now, driving the Porsche like it was meant to be driven, gaining altitude but more importantly gaining distance on my pursuers. I was getting more confident in exploring the car’s capabilities as well. The speed limit on this road was 60 kilometres per hour but I was easily taking it at 120, 140, 150 km/hr. 

Suddenly I saw a sign that said, “Dead end ahead, 100 metres” and I panicked. Yesterday the road seemed to go on forever, but yesterday I was travelling in a minivan with a bunch of people in it at less than half the speed that I was driving today. I stomped on the brake pedal and the car came screeching to a halt, spinning around 180 degrees just as the woods opened up into the parking lot for the lookoff. There was nobody here but me. 

I looked around and discovered that I was trapped. I’m an idiot! There was no other road – the only way back out was by the road I had just came in, and if I drove down that road I was going to encounter that fucking Dodge truck full of those fucking hillbillies again.

I couldn’t believe my own stupidity. All my efforts to lose those backwoods morons was wasted on the fact that I’d let them lead me into a trap. They wouldn’t have to keep up with me on those turns, because they would know that I couldn’t get away. They could climb the hill through the long, twisty road nice and slowly. 

‘Maybe they just gave up’, I thought with doubt, and I shut the car’s engine off to listen. 

At first I was relieved to hear sweet silence aside from the crackling of my hot engine, and almost started to think that I was safe, but this thought was short lived as I heard the faint sound of a diesel engine approaching. It wasn’t screaming or howling with rage anymore, it was just idling along, clattering almost with leisure, and it was gradually getting louder. I started the engine again and looked around in a panic, thinking that maybe I might hide somewhere, but it was useless. The lookoff site had been chosen for its lack of large trees or obstacles, giving it a commanding and unfettered view of the lake and valley floor a thousand metres below. 

I even contemplated just ditching the car and running into the woods to hide, and had undone my seat belt and had my hand on the door handle when the big Dodge slowly emerged from the forest road. There were two people in the cab – the blond and another guy, and there were two more standing in the box. One of the men in the back started swinging a chain, the other was brandishing what looked like a tire iron. 

Then I heard a loud voice talking – Blondie was talking through some kind of PA speaker installed in the truck. “There you are, fruit boy! We’ve got you now! There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to run!”