I was ambling down an old country highway in NW Georgia on my motorcycle (750 Vulcan) when I spotted an ambulance coming the opposite way. I pulled over, and a pickup truck pulled over behind me. In my rear-view mirror I see the passenger get out with a baseball bat and start hustling my way. I didn’t even look, just dropped it into gear and hauled ass. What followed was the most harrowing experience I’ve had in life as this pickup truck proceeds to chase me all over the place for about 20 minutes. I’m unfamiliar with the area and my bike was not meant for going fast around turns, so I’ve got no room for error and it’s all I can do to stay out in front of these guys. I’m blowing through four-way intersections in a bid to get some distance and come up with a plan, but they are hell-bent on catching me. I finally manage to get pointed towards the highway and into the cover of other cars, but then traffic stops on a bridge. The truck is three cars behind me, and I’m thinking if I can just get out to the highway I’m probably home free because my Vulcan can go fairly fast in a straight line. In my mirrors I can see that passenger snaking through the cars on the bridge, so I lane split (illegal in GA) and make the on-ramp, hammer down and I’m gone baby gone.
Never went back to that town. As far as I know this was an unprovoked attack of the hillbilly variety, because prior to the ambulance I hadn’t even seen another vehicle, I don’t ride particularly fast, and I don’t believe in loud pipes. I got lucky as hell, seeing him come up behind me like that.
