When I was maybe 8 years old my parents, one sibling and I were coming back from two towns over late at night after a high school football game that one of my other siblings was in. It was raining and quite dark. As we were driving down the highway, some other car came up on our tail so close you couldn't see his headlights. My dad pulled over and the guy pulled ahead and pulled over and stopped about 1/4 mile up the road. My dad passed him, and the guy came up behind us again. So my dad again pulled over and let the guy pass, and again the guy pulled over and stopped about 1/4 mile up the road. So my dad did a u-turn across the grass median, and went the other way. Well, the guy did the same and came up on us again. So my dad repeated and so did the other guy. This happened three times.
The last time the guy passed us and pulled over and stopped ahead of us, my dad stayed stopped, he opened his door, stepped out into the rain in his Army trench coat, pulled his 1911 out of nowhere and fired a few shots towards the guy. I just remember the shock of seeing the flames shooting out the barrel, the boom boom boom, and my mom screaming. The guy took off, my dad got back in the car, set the gun between the two front seats, and said his most stern words I'd ever heard him say in my entire life....
"gosh darn it 'my mom's name', I shot over him to scare him."
He did another u-turn and we went home. I'll never forget that night....
And I'll never forget my sibling in the back seat sitting next to me slept through the whole thing.