No kiddin'. I bloodied up his face, brought him to his knees, split his head open with one last full-bodyweight slam, and ran.

In the days before cell phones, my car had broken down late at night on that lonlier stretch of Clinton Highway, where there's just a used car lot every so often. I had to set out walking.

He pulled up in his car, driving in the direction I was walking, and slowed to ask if I needed a ride. When I declined, he drove forward, turned around, and approached me from the opposite direction, asking again if I needed a ride. I declined a second time.

He then turned around a second time, driving in the direction he was originally headed (and in the direction I continued to walk), pulled into a used car lot on my side of the highway, parked at the end of a row of cars for sale, and switched off his headlights. Just sat there, waiting as I approached.

I crossed four lanes of Clinton Highway to walk past him on the opposite side of the highway. He sprang out of his car and began running toward me across those same four lanes.

It was perfectly clear that he meant to hurt me or kill me, so I tried my best to kill him.

Was awful pleased with my instincts. Chicks will get it.