An Overview About Fixing Your Classic Cars

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So you have an old beauty that is merely sitting in the garage do you? We’ll if you’re like numerous other classic car owners,”she” needs to be “discovered” again before you can begin dealing with sprucing up your vintage car.

Once you have actually done an extensive examination, you now know exactly what should be fixed. You are now able to begin looking for the parts that you will need to obtain, to get your automobile running once more. Look online if you want to get these parts at the most affordable cost and readily available.

You are now prepared to start working on your car. Make certain to work on one specific area each time, to steer clear of confusion. Additionally, you ought to begin dealing with everything under the hood first, after that concentrate on mechanical problems followed by cosmetic ones. The last action must be painting your auto. You would not wish to scuff up a brand-new paint job while working on your automobile would you?

With your car in operating order your restoration is now complete. Take that baby out for a test drive to see to it that everything is functioning the way it is expected to.

Good Job!

Online car sales to accelerate, as salesmen take a back seat – BBC News

Image caption Some customers are already directed to buy their cars online

Here’s a personal prediction: 2017 will be the year that tens of thousands of motorists will start to buy new cars not from a salesman, but directly from their lap-tops, tablets and smartphones.

The industry is betting that many consumers want to switch to the convenience of buying online, rather than negotiating in person with a dealer.

This month alone three separate car-makers have launched new sales websites, with others expected to follow.

If motorists take to buying online, the days of slick-talking salesmen and saleswomen could be numbered.

The likes of Arthur Daley or Swiss Toni, from the BBC’s Fast Show, would be very unhappy.

But will internet sales also mean lower prices?

That has been the experience in virtually every other part of the retail sector.

But going out to buy a car is not like a shopping trip in the High Street. At least, not yet.

30 minute purchase

Spooked by the success of car-broking websites like Carwow.co.uk, which searches dealerships for the cheapest model, manufacturers now want their own sales platforms.

This month Hyundai, Smart and Peugeot – which includes Citroen – have all entered the market.

When they go online, customers can choose the precise specifications they want – including colour and engine size – part-exchange their old car, arrange finance, decide whether they want their new model delivered to a dealership or to their home, and then click “pay”.

The process is said to take as little as half an hour. In practice that is probably only achievable if you have already decided on the exact model you want, and how you are going to pay for it.

Nevertheless, for the first time it is perfectly possible for a motorist to buy a new car without going anywhere near a dealer, and never meeting a car salesman.

However, if he or she wants to see or test drive a car, that can still be arranged.

Death of a salesman

Anyone sceptical about whether online sales will work should visit Bluewater in Kent, or Westfield Stratford shopping centre in East London.

Both Jaguar Land Rover and Hyundai have models on display, but to buy one you have to go online.

Between them these “shops” sold a thousand cars in their first year.

And here traditional sales executives are already a thing of the past.

Instead customers are greeted by so-called “store angels”, whose job is restricted to giving information, as well as guiding people through the website.

Image caption So-called store angels have already replaced some traditional sales staff

“You don’t need to have a sales executive driving a sale,” says Michael Canham, a team leader with Hyundai’s sales partner, Rockar.

“If a customer is in a buying mode, they will make that choice naturally themselves.”

But some customers visiting the store disagree.

“I like to negotiate with a salesman,” says David Graph. “They will go that bit further and give you a discount.”

Another, Carlton Moodie, said he would never buy a car online, as it means missing out on special deals.

“I’d rather negotiate. Online you can’t negotiate.”

Awkward situation

But Maria McCarthy, a motoring journalist, believes many people will be delighted not to have to haggle in person.

“You don’t need a physical person in front of you to offer those deals,” she says.

She also thinks anyone who is not confident in a car showroom can easily feel patronised by sales staff.

“Whether it’s a lingerie department (for men), or a garage on the corner, we’ve all got environments where we feel a bit awkward.

In car dealerships that awkwardness is intensified by the fact that you are going to make a very expensive purchase.”

Image caption Some people may not be happy to negotiate with the likes of Swiss Toni in The Fast Show

But surely most buyers want to see, or even test drive a car?

All these websites still offer a facility for customers to go to a dealer if they want to, and then continue their purchase online.

However, fewer people now insist on doing so.

For example, since it opened 16 months ago, Hyundai Rockar has found that just 53% of customers opt to drive a car before buying one.

The reason may be their trust in the brand – or perhaps their reluctance to spend too much time on the whole car-buying process.

Prices

Customers using the new websites will find that the prices are fixed.

By going to a dealer instead, they may get a discount of a thousand pounds, or perhaps tinted glass, leather seats or free insurance thrown in.

In other words, it is still likely to be cheaper to go shopping in a car showroom.

The reason is that manufacturers are reluctant to undercut their dealers. So for the moment dealers will still get some money from each internet sale.

Steve Huntingford, the editor of What Car? Magazine, believes car-makers would love to offer direct sales in theory, but they are currently too reliant on their showroom networks.

“There’s an element of you don’t want to upset the dealer and cut them out altogether, because at the moment they know there is a need for them.”

Peugeot themselves confirmed that they are unlikely to offer direct sales, independently of dealers, for the foreseeable future.

“In simple terms, no,” says Andrew Baird, head of Peugeot’s digital and online operations.

“At the moment we think our (dealers) invest an awful lot of money in the brand, and are an absolutely critical part of the business.”

As a result he believes there is little scope for discounted prices on the internet.

“I think that’s extremely difficult with the franchise model that we have, because ultimately the franchisee can sell a car at any price they want. They control the prices.”

Arthur Daley

For the moment then, manufacturers are selling the idea of internet sales on convenience alone.

But that should not be underestimated.

Image copyright Getty Images
Image caption George Cole as Arthur Daley, the archetypal car salesman in the TV series Minder

Industry figures show that the average car buyer used to visit three showrooms before buying. Now that is down to one.

Our appetite for physical reconnaissance may be waning, while our confidence in internet shopping is still growing. Ask online clothing retailers, for example.

However, any boom in online car sales may take its toll on those wearing natty suits like Arthur Daley in the TV series Minder, or the master of the double entendre, Swiss Toni.

“I don’t think it will happen for a while,” says Steve Huntingford.

“But I think eventually, yes, the traditional way of buying a car will gradually shrink, and in a couple of generations you can see a time when there is no need for a car salesman.”

Read more: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-38769896

Trump Superfan’s TV Interview Gets Remixed To Eminem’s ‘Stan’

Donald Trumpdevotee Gene Hubers gushing CNN interview about the president has been given an Eminem twist.

Over the weekend, Twitter user @BeardedGeniusremixed parts of Hubers effusive comments about Trump over the Detroit rappers 2000 hit Stan which is about an obsessed fan writing to his idol.

Check out the clip here:

The mashup has since gone viral, and even been tweeted by singer and actor Josh Groban.Eminem, who called Trump a bitch in a verse on Big Seans new track No Favors, has so far not commented.

Huber enthusiastically praised Trump on Saturday after the president had earlier invited him onstage at his campaign-style rally in Melbourne, Florida.

In the interview, the 47-year-old car salesman also revealed he had a6-foot cardboard cutout of the president in his house that he salutes every single day.

Read more: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/donald-trump-supporter-stan-eminem_us_58abfc3fe4b0f077b3ed6176?ncid=inblnkushpmg00000009

Concrete thinking’s in fashion at Brussels’ brutalist Jam Hotel

Budget hotels always offer basic, boxy rooms, but not many are as creative as this alternative gem in the Belgian capital

Brussels is a city of grand townhouses and art nouveau. Yet plonked in the middle of the Belgian capital, on a nondescript street corner, has appeared a hotel that looks like downtown LA had it been swallowed by lava. An old 1970s art college has been redesigned and rebuilt, by people who usually make film sets, to become the oddest, most fashionable, most affordable stopover in Europe.

The reception desk is held up by a pair of motorcycles dipped in concrete above it rest maquettes, Paolozzi-like little bricks of angles and texture. Three guests under 10 years old leap joyfully between leather sofas and concrete benches while they wait for their parents to check into one of the Supra rooms which sleep five, one up by the ceiling, in what they call a cabine bed.

In my bedroom, the roughness of concrete and cement is softened by elegant plywood, glowing in the bright light of those office-wide windows. To the right of the double bed, above a built-in sofa, a ladder climbs up to what looks like a cupboard. But slide the doors open and here is the promised cabine bed. Its sleek neatness is pleasing, its promise of claustrophobia less so.

In a place where every corner hides a new, brutalist thrill, this is the most exciting aspect of the Jam Hotel. As well as the family rooms for up to six there is a boutique dormitory, a vast room of bunkbeds and Japanese-style cabins, their plywood doors in flashes of primary colours, and available for 18 (15) a night per person.

The
Lane swim the thin pool on the rooftop.

Upstairs on the roof, theres a pool. Nobody would call it a swimming pool. Its a long rectangle of water designed for plunging into on hot days, or for submerged drinking at night. The sunset is pink and yellow in the rooftop bar, which is alive with handsome locals from 6pm.

Huge slices of concrete tunnelling, once sewer pipes, decorate the wall by the terrace; at the other end of the room, windows look out on to a wildish garden. You see the trickling greenery from the restaurant, too, an old car park where lamps made from drainage connector pipes are held in place by luggage straps. Wood offcuts become cubist collages on the walls.

The food is Italian and good: vast bowls of pasta in the evenings, with a griddle for guests to fry their eggs at breakfast. Which is helpful because, at times, the staff can be almost as brutal as the design. This is not a May I take your bags to your room? kind of place, or even a sure, we have a plug adapter you can borrow kind of place, but its almost better for that casualness, which suits the brilliant, bonkers austerity of the building.

This is one of a group of alternative Belgian hotels that are run by Jean-Michel Andr, a hotelier aiming to innovate the industry. They offer experiences, he says. I note that as well as bikes, there are skateboards for guests to borrow.

Concrete
Tube planner concrete pipe sections in the bar.

The interior designer, Lionel Jadot, came up with the hotels name he was thinking of traffic. He said he treated the ground floor like a big constructivist sculpture and its an odd feeling, emerging from this romantic bleakness into streets of neo-classical architecture.

In one direction is Place Stphanie, which spiders out towards a strip of fashionable shops, with signs that urge you to Instagram yourself beside their displays and drink coffee among the handbags. In the other direction, a 20-minute walk downhill to Place du Jeu de Balle, is the Old Market. Its been here since 1854, a maze of blankets thrown down and strewn with masks and books and bartering old men.

If you kneel down and dig through the cardboard boxes, its even possible to find vintage ceramics similar to those that appear up the hill, like paint splashes on the hotels grey concrete surfaces.

However, if youre attempting to recreate the Jams interior, it will take a little more than a morning at the market.

Way to go

Dorm rooms cost from 18 (15) a night, while a room sleeping six costs from 150 (128) at Jam Hotel, Brussels (jamhotel.be). Eurostar operates up to 11 daily services from London St Pancras International to Brussels, with fares from 29 one way (eurostar.com)

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2017/apr/23/jam-hotel-brussels-belgium-review-budget-travel

A tub of original McDonald’s Szechuan sauce sold for a stupid amount of money on Ebay

Ever since thesurprise season 3 premiere of Rick and Morty, fans have been jonesing for special edition Szechuan dipping sauce released by McDonald’s in 1998 to promote Disney’s Mulan. (If you have no idea what I’mtalking about, start here.)

Some fans tried making their own version of the sauce, while others made ovations to McDonald’s to re-release it. And at least one person with a bunch of money and very little patience apparently dropped $14,700 on a 20-year-old tub of original Mulan sauce on Ebay.

The seller wrote, “I just bought a really old car, while cleaning it I found a packet of this sauce. After watching the recent episode of Rick and Morty I went online to see if it was worth anything. Turns out it was.”

The buyer topped 186 other bids for the sauce,giving the seller enough cash to ditch that lucky20-year-old clunker and upgrade to something new or close to it. The seller’s only request was “I hope somebody who wants to eat some 20 year old gnarly sauce gets this. I would prefer not to sell it to a collector.”

Buddy, for that price it should be kept in a bank vault.

We think it’s only fair to point out that while it’s a cool stroke of luck for the seller, buying a packet of McNugget sauce for $14,700 is not a very Rick thing to do. Don’t get me wrong, Rick wants the sauce. But it’s more his style to win it in an intergalactic singing competition or gamblingwith some creepy-looking aliens. At the very least he’d use Jerry’s credit card.

He’d also definitely eat the sauce. So how about it, new owner of rare McDonald’s Mulan dipping sauce. Are you squanchy enough to be a Rick? Or are you gonna be a loser like Jerry. (P.S. Don’t sue us if you actually eat decades-old expired fast food.)

H/T Time

Read more: https://www.dailydot.com/parsec/mcdonads-szechuan-sauce-ebay/

Gillian Welch on the healing power of road trips: ‘In every street sign there is poetry’

The Americana star and musical partner David Rawlings are embarking on a 7,000km-plus drive across Australia, taking in two laps of the east coast

Gillian Welch wants to see some kangaroos. She didnt see any the only other time she was in Australia so the country music star wants to rectify that when she returns for the first time in 12 long years. And since the tour is as much road trip as musical event band and crew are going to drive between gigs, starting in Perth and taking in two laps of the east coast it seems designed for the purpose.

Last time we saw some wombats I think thats what they were going across the road, a whole mess of em. But we didnt see kangaroos so I want to see some this time, says Welch, who is well aware that there might not be much else to look at on parts of the 7,000km-plus trip.

The tour has been designed by us, she says, meaning herself and musical partner Dave Rawlings. Weve wanted to do this for a long time. Last time we drove from Brisbane to Melbourne and that was the end of the tour. We didnt get to turn the corner and continue the tour.

Everyone is super excited and they know what were in for. People say to me, Its different to the US, theres nothing in between. But my reaction to that is, Great. People dont tour the way we do.

There is no doubt the pair are a bit different. Apart from the driving thing (have they even looked at the map, I wonder?), they are splitting the focus of the tour so Welch takes centre stage with her material from Perth to Brisbane before they morph into the Dave Rawlings Machine from Brisbane back to Melbourne.

Welchs sublime blend of country, blues and folk traditions has led to sold-out shows in Australia. Songs such as Caleb Meyer, April the 14th and I Dream a Highway have established a special niche in the Americana catalogue. With Welch spinning tales of Okies and outlaws, backed by Rawlings harmonies and dipping and soaring guitar licks, they make for a spellbinding stage spectacle.

We really enjoy playing live and like being on the road, Welch says. It feels like what Im supposed to be doing. Theres something natural about it. Its such a sense of how you get better by playing a chunk of shows.

We hope the shows are transportive, transfixing. Were trying to give people a unique experience. I hold playing live in special regard. And its different because of the people who show up.

Welch has not released new material under her name since 2011 but the Machine recently released an excellent second album, Nashville Obsolete, showcasing the pairs rockier impulses and Rawlings extraordinary guitar playing.

With the tour, we hope people will get both bands, Welch says. When we get to Brisbane, were going to turn around and reverse direction. Two different ensembles, two different catalogues.

Its been really important doing both and trying to broaden what we do because it can get focused right down to a razors edge. We have the same record collections but he cant do what I can do, and I cant do what he does. We get to cover different territory and the music that we love. With the Machine we push deeper into that Dylanesque, ramshackle rock. And I can push deeper into the Stanley brothers, Townes Van Zandt kind of stuff.

Welch seems to have inherited the natural storytelling gift of those great names. She was born in New York but adopted as a baby before growing up in California where her parents worked as TV writers. Many people have wondered how this woman from the coasts can evoke the spirit of the US south so vividly. But, speaking to her by phone as she and Rawlings drive to a show in Houston, its obvious how she brings the sights and sounds of the American landscape to life, from the beauty of Appalachia to the backyard wreckage of abandoned cars.

Being on the road is my way to check in with the state of the union, she says. Its a first-hand way to see whats going on out here, to get the vibe.

I always say to people, if theyre feeling depressed go take a road trip and see whats actually happening. Ive never been bored in a car. In every street sign there is poetry and history and all these beautiful images. You see so much crazy stuff. The other day I saw an old car buried in beer cans. Someone had filled big 60-gallon bags with the cans and left them all on top of the car. But over time the bags had popped open and covered the car in cans.

The US is a real car culture which the country is totally wrapped up in. They hold our memories and hopes for the future so people dont like to get rid of them, she says, perhaps nonchalantly sketching out a future songscape as she goes off to dream another highway.

The Gillian Welch/Dave Rawlings Machine tour of Australia begins in Perth on 30 January and ends in Melbourne on 19 February

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/music/2016/jan/27/gillian-welch-on-the-healing-power-of-road-trips-in-every-street-sign-there-is-poetry

31 True Stories Of Grisly Encounters With Strangers To Remind You To Lock Your Doors Tonight

Every day people post their nightmarish true stories to the Reddit group Lets Not Meet. If you’ve ever been curious about what kind of creeps are out there in the world, here are some of the most interesting recent posts.

I thought this was only an urban legend…

I was driving home from work at 2 am. I’m a nurse and I live in a small city. The roads were totally deserted and it was a freezing night. I don’t live far from work, maybe a couple of miles. I’m driving down a residential street around the corner from my house and I see a man laying face down in the street.

Now remember, I’m a nurse. My first thought was “Great, gotta help this guy up.” I was coming off a long shift and falls happen all the time. As I slowed down the car I suddenly realized what an idiot move that was. I’m a 100 lb woman and I don’t carry any weapons. I thought I should do something to help the guy so I called 911 as I drove past him and slowed to a stop at the end of the block. While I was stopped at the light I explained to the dispatcher that there was a man in the road who might need assistance.

All of a sudden I hear a loud BANG! BANG! from the driver’s side window. I screamed and looked over. A man was pounding on my window and jiggling the handle of my locked car. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that there was no man laying in the street. Still on the phone with 911, I screamed “I’M SO SCARED!” to the dispatcher and floored it through the red light. I quickly told him what had happened and even though I was right by my house, he told me to keep driving. After a few minutes I had calmed down and he told me to loop back around. I pulled over down the road from my house and stayed in the car. I didn’t see the man anywhere, so I got off the phone with the dispatcher who told me he was sending a police car to cruise the area.

As I gather up my things I do a final scan of the area, and I see the man. He is walking with two other men. I hunched way down in my car until they were far down the road, then bolted into my house.

I don’t know if he had ill intent, but it freaks me the hell out that he wasn’t alone. ALWAYS LOCK YOUR CAR DOORS. And carry mace.

She was hiding in my bedroom closet with a very large knife and a bundle of rope

I’m a karaoke dj. I usually get home between 2-3 AM, but tonight I got off around 11 because the bar had a power outage. I live alone in a triplex behind a house. I live in the middle of a city but the property I’m on is rather large. So there is a big back yard behind my apartment.

As I was coming home tonight I noticed that my cats weren’t waiting for me in the window. (They can hear my van pulling in the driveway. They are in the window every night. No exception) I thought it was odd. Then I noticed that my kitchen light was on… I never leave my kitchen light on. At this point I was a little freaked out. That’s when I thought I saw movement in my kitchen. I called 911 and the dispatcher told me to lock my van doors and remain in the vehicle and stay on the line. Officers showed up very quickly (less than 5 mins) they parked on the street and walked up to my van. They asked me to stay quiet and give them my house key. One officer went to the back of my apartment and the other used my key to unlock the door.

When he opened the door all was quiet. Then he yelled REALLY loud telling someone to come out. I heard the police officer that was in my back yard start yelling and the other officer ran out to join him. My neighbors had come outside at this point and I was freaking out.

It seemed like a long time, but they walked a cuffed woman towards me and it turns out it was a patron that i had 86’ed this last weekend. I don’t know how she found out where I lived. She was hiding in my bedroom closet with a very large knife and a bundle of rope. (?!?!)

I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I had gone to bed with her waiting for me.

CLICK TO THE NEXT PAGE…

Every day people post their nightmarish true stories to the Reddit group Lets Not Meet. If you’ve ever been curious about what kind of creeps are out there in the world, here are some of the most interesting recent posts.

What if my boyfriend wasn’t there…

I was driving home from a big big city near my little town late at night after a day there with this dude on our first date sometime in March of 2012. My date was asleep and his seat was reclined really low. We got into town at around 1am and I noticed this guy standing on the corner I was about to stop at at a red light. He looked like he was probably on something. He was talking to himself and pacing. I was a little nervous, but whatever. I’m a little too quick to judge people sometimes.

So I stopped and we accidentally made eye contact… At least I accidentally did. I could tell he was yelling at be cause I kept hearing “bitch” and some other… Uh… Things as I was stopped at the LONGEST RED LIGHT EVER as the guy I was with was sleeping cozily in the passenger seat (really really reclined.) After about 10 seconds of the guy cussing me out he hopped over to my car and swings the passenger door open REACHING FOR ME. I started screaming bloody murder and the guy I was on the date with woke up suddenly and started smacking the guy (I think it started as reflexes). The crazy guy is yelling “Fuck, man! Didn’t see you! Fuck! Oh fuck, didn’t see you! This bitch!” Etc., and my date pushed him out the door as I zoom off, running the red. He closed the door and yelled “WHO THE FUCK… WHAT THE FUCK WAS…?” I’m hyperventilating and then I started half laughing half crying because my nerves were shot.

We got some ice cream at 1am. Then I took him home and went home myself. We laughed about it. But, I don’t like to think what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.

I found out what the smell was

About three years ago, I moved to London. I was looking for a flatmate, but had no luck. I turned to my friend, Marcus. After a week or two, Marcus and I moved in together. After we moved in, he put some of his stuff in storage so that he could make room for me in his flat.

When I moved in, everything was fine and well. Fast forward about a year. I went to get some stuff out of the storage locker that Marcus put his stuff in. As I opened the door, an absolutely RANK scent hit me like a bat. I switched the light on, and saw a couple old boxes, and a couch.

I was looking for the source of the smell, but I couldn’t find it. I grabbed what I came for, and left before I could vomit. Now, fast forward to about a month ago. I went back to the storage unit to get something else, and the smell was even worse than before. I had to hold my nose as I walked into the storage unit. I saw an open box, and I decided to look into it. I found stuffed animals. Like, dead animals that were stuffed. I looked into the box under that one, and I found rotting animals.

I was competently disgusted, so I went to Marcus to confront him. As I walked into the flat, I shouted “MARCUS, YOU SICK FUCK. WHY ARE THERE DEAD ANIMALS IN OUR STORAGE LOCKER?”. He came out of his room, and sat me down on the couch. He told me that he wanted to be completely honest with me, and he told me that he was into necrophilia.

Let’s just say that now I’m moved in with my parents.

CLICK TO THE NEXT PAGE…

Every day people post their nightmarish true stories to the Reddit group Lets Not Meet. If you’ve ever been curious about what kind of creeps are out there in the world, here are some of the most interesting recent posts.

Why you should always check under the bed

This incident happen to my mum before she had me over 20 years ago..

She worked at a local pub, the pub mainly catered for fisherman as the town is on the coast of Western Australia. So she knew most of the people who would come in for drinks or a feed.

However every now and again people from town would come in, she told me one bloke used to come in who she known from house parties around the place and always wanted to talk to her while she was working and would say sorry and keep doing her thing. One night she finished work around mid night and walk home which was a few kilometers away.

She lived with a few house mates who were blokes , all good mates. when she got home from her shift, she decided to have a shower. making her way back to her room she realized her door was open which is normally shut, all the fellas were asleep so she blew it off as wind or something. She laid down in bed to go to sleep but something didn’t feel right and for reasons she cant explain to me, she felt the need to look under her bed.

What she saw under the bed was the bloke from the bar who had followed her all the way from her work, she tells me that she just stared at him for ages and he didn’t move not even breath, to the point she thought he was dead, she went out room calmly and went to one of the guys room to tell them she had a dead bloke under her bed.

They raced in with baseball bats to find the guy half way out the window. He managed to escape and run away. The police were called and because they all knew who he was, the cops picked him up the next day.

I left the door unlocked

My dad was out for a job interview, so me and my sister had the place to ourselves for about 2 hours. I watched TV downstairs and went outside, and when I went back in, I left the door unlocked for my dad, since it was getting close to the time he said he’d be home

I went upstairs and hung out with my sister for a while. I heard the front door open, and rummaging through cabinets as well. I just assumed that it was my dad, since he always likes to check everything is in place before relaxing. I also heard my dad’s door open and close, albeit slowly, a few times.

I was talking with my sister when the phone rang. To my surprise, it was my dad on the other end. He told me that he was going to be getting home late and that we needed to make our own dinners. It felt like my heart fell to my feet as he said. I realized that it wasn’t my dad that had entered the home.

I hurriedly rushed downstairs to see if everything was okay. Several things were gone, and the front door was wide open. I then heard what sounded like breathing, coming from the downstairs bathroom. I chocked the urge to yell as I saw a hand wrap around the door, and a face peer around my corner.

As soon as the guy saw me, he ran like hell out of there. I chased after him, but he was long gone. On the floor in the bathroom, I found later of all things, a boxcutter knife. I’m not sure what his intentions were with the weapon, but they weren’t good if anything.

He thought she was home alone

My wife had gone shopping for the day and so I was in the basement doing some woodworking. I heard her car pull in, and so I headed up the stairs to help her with her stuff. She ran into the house saying someone was after her.

I got pissed. People tend not to mess with me (important to the story) as I’m 6’1 and 260. I used to be a power lifter and work at a saw mill. In my wife’s words I’m somewhere between a bear and a mountain man. We also have a great pyrenees who happened to have been inside with me at the time. For those of you that aren’t familiar with pyrenees, they’re great dogs. They’re a guard breed originally from France. Ours is 140 pounds of muscular guard dog. They are the sweetest dogs, great with kids, unless you threaten their people. Then they get nasty mean. For example, we have coyotes here. We also have a 16 pound mutt (wife’s dog). One day two coyotes attacked the little dog in the yard and the pyrenees killed them both.

Back to the story. I’m pissed. So the dude busted up in my house assuming she was alone since my truck was in the shop. He wasn’t expecting me or the Pyrenees. the big dog charged him (all 140 pounds of big dog), grabbed the intruder by the arm and dragged him top the ground. I grabbed the dude by the throat and told my wife to call the cops.

I got to spend about 15 minutes threatening to kill this man if he moved. The pyrenees never let go of his arm. Cops showed up, took my statement and hers and bad guy went to prison. Seems this fool had followed my wife from the store (it’s a 30 minute drive and she tried to lose him twice) after making some passes at her, but she said she knew if she could get home, she would be safe.

CLICK TO THE NEXT PAGE…

Every day people post their nightmarish true stories to the Reddit group Lets Not Meet. If you’ve ever been curious about what kind of creeps are out there in the world, here are some of the most interesting recent posts.

I thought my roommate knew him

I lived in a sketchy part of my city and I live alone. From time to time, I invite a few friends and classmates over. ( somehow relevant ).I lived in a fairly large place and money was getting tight so I figured I should get a roommate. Three months ago, Shiela moved in.

A little background on Shiela. This girl is kinky as hell. She would invite various men over a few times a week. Yesterday was when she drew the line when she invited a guy over and he went ahead and stole a guitar my friend left in my place. I was furious but also very passive-aggressive. I went to my friend’s house and when I came back, another guy is sitting on our couch. I got more angry because Shiela never fucking learn.

I noticed this guy is a little shifty. A got a good laugh because I noticed that the guy was so high, he’s trying not to die.Maybe that’s why Shiela left him alone. So I went to sleep.

I woke up to get ready for school this morning and I saw this guy happily eating cereal on or table. ( I got used to this ) I sat next to him to eat my oatmeal and we ate breakfast in silence. Shiela came out of her room and ate breakfast too. So we’re just silently eating there for 15 minutes or something. This guy stood up, washed his bowl and carefully placed it in a drawer. “Thank you for the cereal, ladies”, he mumbled and then quietly went out of our apartment. I said something like, “out of all the guys you invited over, at least that guy is polite”. Shiela just stared at me in confusion, she said ” wasn’t that your friend? “.

Then it dawned on me that I just shared breakfast with a guy who was so high he entered a random house.

Lock your car doors while driving

A month ago, I was at a pharmacy filling a prescription. I have central pain following a stroke I had in my early 20’s. I can walk, but the brain damage causes severe burning in my entire body. Due to this, I am on morphine and seen by a specialist at a well known hospital.

I dropped off my prescription and waited. I noticed a guy behind me, standing way too close. He could hear everything we said. I sat down and tested my blood pressure. I noticed him walking around in the aisles by me. I thought he was waiting too. They called my name 20 mins later. I didn’t see him while leaving the store. I looked in my car and got in, locking my doors immediately due to paranoia of watching scary movies,I guess.

I stopped at the first stop sign and out from behind the tree jumps the same guy. In one motion he was out from behind the tree and was grabbing my passenger side door handle. It was locked. He seemed as shocked as I was and looked like he was grabbing for the back passenger door.

I started screaming and put my hand on my horn and sped away. Other cars were also honking. I saw him run. I drove until I saw a cop car sitting at Carl’s Jr and ran in. He took my info and drove to the stop sign and asked me to follow. I couldn’t see him anywhere. The police officer said it happened last week to an elderly lady, so he needed to find him. I was really, really lucky. Always lock your door.

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What happened to the lock?

In college I lived with my mom and aunt. We had a house on a hill in the woods. You had to drive up to get to the garage and the front yard sloped down to the left to expose all the floors of a pretty turret on the side of the house.
To get to the front door, you had to step onto a wooden walkway that followed along the whole left side of the garage. There was about four feet between the bottom of the walkway and the ground underneath at the door.

I got home late one night and saw my aunts light was still on. She was a night owl like me.

I pulled in, parked and walked up to the front door. It was dark but I could see there was something wrong with the doorknob. It was hanging out of the door and the screws were mostly out. I unlocked the deadbolt, locked it again and went upstairs to ask my aunt what had happened to the knob.

She was really confused and told me she had just been out there smoking and it was fine. I told her it was broken and she argued that she had literally been out there only a minute before and hadn’t even seen me pull in because she was still walking up the stairs to her room.

We both go back downstairs and I show her the door. Her face turned white and we realized that in the time between her shutting the door and me getting to it, someone had tried to break in buy pulling the locks out. We had many more instances after that with someone stalking us but never found out who it was.

Restroom creeper

On Saturday I got a call from a few friends about going to the Mall. It was a stressful week at work so I thought some retail therapy would definitely help. We shopped for the typical lady stuff like make-up, lingerie and shoes before we decided on hitting the food hall for a spot of lunch. I gave the girls my order and told them I would come and find them as I needed to use the restroom. The restrooms at the end of a large and wide corridor, they were your typical mall type with lots of stalls.

Anyway, so I sat down to, well you knowand I could see from the Gap on the floor between the wall of the stall and the floor, lots of movement from someones shadow. I wasnt sure if theyre we getting changed or not so I didnt pay much attention at first but it felt like the shadow was coming from above at some points. You know as if they light above were being obstructed by something? After maybe the third time I decided to look up and I could see a phone and parts of a guys arm leaning over. Someone was taking photos of me! I instantly shouted out What the fuck you fucking pervert and in a moment of sheer shock and disbelief, this all very quickly turned to fear as I got up and leapt out of the stall and was greeted by an empty bathroom. Not one person was insight and from the quick glance of the mirrors opposite, there was only one stall shut that was next to mine. I ran for the restroom exit but it was locked!

Luckily, it had a twist lock that I could turn and as I did, I heard a stall open from behind me. I got out immediately and turned as I exited and noticed a sign on the on the door saying Closed for Maintenance, this sign was not here when I went in. I screamed some more, shouting to get anyones attention as I ran down to corridor towards the food hall and had obviously caught the attention of a few people. A group of 3 guys stopped me and clearly could see the panic in my eyes, they quizzed me, I explained, two ran towards the ladies restroom and one to find security. Security arrived within seconds. After a while a rather large crowd had gathered due to the commotion and although I was in the comfort of my friends, security and now the Police, Id never felt more alone. Security and the Police, nor the two guys found any one. There was a few Staff only and fire exit doors down the corridor, so plenty of escape routes for whoever this guy was to go through.

I gave my statement down at the station later that day once my parents showed up. The Police said they had security tapes from the CCTV cameras that point down the corridor and will keep us updated with any news.

Hopefully they find this guy.

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It felt like a safe place

I was reminded of this recently, but it happened >10 years ago. I was living in my first apartment, alone. It was a third floor studio with vaulted ceilings in a huge complex that promoted itself as a “community”, with socials planned and picnic/playground areas among the buildings. Staff would drive around on golf carts waving hi. It felt like a safe place.

So one day I called up maintenance because my a/c wasn’t working. A man comes up to look at it. He’s short but kind of wiry looking, maybe late 40s and leathery, like he’s spent most of his life in the sun. He’s in overalls, has a bushy mustache, all smiles.

He’s inside my apartment with a screwdriver looking at the a/c and we’re making chit chat. All seems innocent until he stands upright, says it’s fixed and takes a step toward me.

He’s looking me in the eyes while he flips his screwdriver, suddenly not so friendly anymore. Then he says (I still remember the words exactly) “You know what I think? I think you’re pretty naive to be living in an apartment all by yourself. Here you’ve let a strange man in to your apartment – you even let me close the door. Anything could happen.”

I could feel the smile melting off my face but I tried not to let on I was afraid. Then I kind of laughed and said “Ha! That’s what my boyfriend said when I told him I was calling you guys. He insisted he come over. He’ll be here any second and you guys have already finished! You’ll probably run in to him on the stairwell.”

At that he left abruptly and I locked the deadbolt after him. I’d lied about my boyfriend coming over but immediately called him to make it (almost) the truth. At the time I thought I was overreacting and didn’t mention it to anyone. Looking back ten years later I realize just how sinister what he was saying was.

“Room service”

In the 1980s, my family went to the SEC Basketball Tournament in Birmingham, Alabama. Because of so many fans showing up for the game, all of the good hotels and decent motels were sold out, so my family had to stay at a very seedy-looking Travelodge.

The door wasn’t very secure, the phone was two-toned black and white, the TV had only one channel, and you could barely tell Three’s Company was on. I had to pee so I went to the bathroom and noticed the toilet top wasn’t there. By toilet top, I don’t mean the seat, I mean the lid over the water tank in the back. I didn’t think much about it since the rest of the room was so messed up.

My dad was out trying to find tickets to the basketball games and I decided to take a nap. After a while, there was a knock on the door. I guess the door didn’t have a peephole, because my older sister asked, “Who’s there?” The reply was,”Uh, room service.” I guess either my sister or my mom opened the door and I heard them slam the door and go hysterical, going, “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOOOOOOD!” The knock on the door had already half-woken me up, but their shouting woke me up for real.

I asked them what was going on and they said there was a scruffy looking guy holding the lid to the toilet, using it upside down as a tray, with a dildo, anal beads, and two packaged condoms sitting on it. The dildo was white or maybe off-white and my mom and sister said it didn’t necessarily look unwashed, but it had a brownish stain on most of the shaft.

They pushed chairs up against the door until dad got back, and then we changed motels.

He almost got me

I was 11 years old, i spent the night hanging out with my closest friend at the time, I left around 7 o clock. She was about a 15 to 20 minute walk away from my house. it was the month of december, so it was icy and dark outside.

While i was walking down the long sidewalk, i had to make a turn half way. Across the turn down the sidewalk i noticed a man way further down, he was alone at that moment. 10 seconds later a 4 door car drove up to him, it was a long street till my turn so i watched him talk to whoever was in the car, it sped off and he just stopped, watching me walk.

As i kept walking all i heard was “HEY YOU, COME HERE, STOP, HEY YOU!” I freaked the fuck out. I started walking faster..and then noticed he started running towards me. I started running for my life. Since the ground was covered in snow and ice, all i literally thought as i was running was “please god don’t let me slip, mom mom mom please help me” i was crying as i was running. He caught up extremely fast, I kept looking back and noticed the car slowly driving behind him, as I ran i felt his arm reach out and try to grab the hood of my sweatshirt.

By gods grace his hands slipped, and i ran a block trying to find a house with it’s lights on. I finally found one and banged at the door, almost ready to break it down to get in. this older couple finally answered. I ran inside explaining what happened. the husband then went outside to try and find him, when we went out he saw the man standing at the end of the street staring at him, then he ran off. my mom called the cops and pulled me out of school for 4 days afterwards, he was never found. For a while after I would would buy flowers and a card and leave it on the couples step, thanking them for saving my life.

God only knows what would of happened if he got me, and dragged me to the car. Let’s never meet again.

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An experience with the killer clown

It was the early 1970s in Des Plaines, Illinois. Back then it was not uncommon to hitchhike. My dad and my uncle (his younger brother) enjoyed doing this, as they were quite the adventurers. They were both pretty young, in their early teens. They had just gone fishing, when they had made their way to a nearby coffee shop parking lot, in search of a ride to get close to home.

A middle aged man stopped to pick them up. There was nothing really striking about this guy, he just looked like a typical guy. So they got into the car with him. My dad sat in the passenger seat, while my uncle sat in the middle back seat. Everything was fine, until the driver reached his arm towards the back of the car, and put his hand on my uncles knee. My dad’s creep-o-meter sounded right away, and as soon as they came to a stop light, my dad got out of the car, took his brother by the arm, and got the hell out of there.

Fast forward a few years. It’s 1978, and my dad catches a glimpse of a familiar face in the Chicago newspaper. It’s the man who had picked them up a few years back. The article states that this man was arrested after police found 33 teenaged males buried in various parts of his home, including the crawl space. This sick man would find teenaged boys wherever he could, to rape, torture, and kill. His name was John Wayne Gacy.

He was so polite

When I was 6 and my bro 10 we came to notice that we always had a cop car following us around. This went on for a couple of months during the summer. We did not know what was going on until later when we moved far away. My mom explained to us that for two or three months, some weirdo would call the house (when my dad was not home) and tell her how he would rape and kill us.

Now people may ask: but why would the cops take this so seriously?

1) The man would be aware when my mom was alone with us 2) He would tell her what we were wearing and doing on the particular day. 3)He knew our names! 4)He would call from random phone booths around the city where we lived, sometimes from really far away. He took time to drive to the other ends of the city to make a phone call. ** edit 5) The fucking Montreal Boy Slasher was active at the time.

After we moved, it stopped and nothing ever happened. Still makes my mom go fucking mental because she says the first time he called he was very polite and had a very pleasant tone in his voice.

Always lock your doors

At my last apartment I lived with another mid-twenties fellow who was in college. One night he had a few friends over, and after a drink or two I headed off to bed because I had work the next day.

Around 3 in the morning I woke up to my door being opened by a middle-aged man. He smiled as I sat up and said “Oh, no, don’t get up, I just wanted to let you know your door was unlocked!” I just replied with “What?” And he closed the door. I sat there for about thirty seconds before jumping up and grabbing a screw driver (I’m OG gangster) and walking out of my room, but he was already gone. He didn’t steal anything, but nevertheless I definitely did not enjoy meeting him.

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I was almost a victim of human trafficking

My best friend at the time (same age as me) was my neighbor who lived with her mother and grandmother 3 houses down from mine, we had been friends since we were babies, we grew up together, went to the same school, moved in the same social circle, went on vacation together, shared clothes, cds, food, we were basically sisters, our families were close, etc.

Her mom, early 30s at the time, was a single mom working as a secretary, they didn’t have it bad, between her salary and the grandmothers pension they lived comfortably and without any major setbacks.

Her mom started seeing a foreign guy who was in the country for business, he claimed to be from Spain but he had a funny accent, as if he was originally from Italy or another non-Spanish speaking country. He was supposedly rich, despite staying in a rinky dinky hotel (the hotel did have a pool tho, lol) he would often show pictures of himself in a very luxurious residence, he said it was his house in Ibiza, pictures of him driving a red sports car, a picture of him in front of the Eiffel Tower (oh god, how innocent were we) and so on.

After a month and a half or so of dating, my friend’s mom said they were leaving the country in perhaps the next 6-7 months. She was in love with him and he had promised her a life of luxury in Europe and everything was going to be perfect, the country they were moving to: Spain. Her and her daughter. The grandma couldn’t come. at least not yet, she was supposed to meet them in the future after they had settled in (but at the same time, wasn’t he rich? so many red flags).
This is where I come in, since I was such good friends with Maritza, the guy had told Maritza’s mom to bring me along for vacation, that it would be good for Maritza, make the transition easier, etc.

I was, of course, thrilled, a month in Europe with my best friend who was moving away, and the idea of going to see her every summer and stay at her step father’s mansion, it was a dream. My parents of course weren’t so thrilled at first, but as they got to know him they liked him and eventually he won them over too.

Eventually I even got a little weekend job as a waitress at my uncle’s restaurant to help my parents with the plane ticket and other costs, we got my passport, we were ready to go. As the months went by, it became evident that I wasn’t gonna be able to go, the money I had saved wasn’t enough, it didn’t even cover half of the ticket, and my parents couldn’t come up with the money for the rest of the trip.

A week or so before they left, the guy came to my house and talked to my parents, he offered to pay for my plane ticket. My parents politely declined. I was fuming, I swore I would never talk to my parents again, I didn’t come out of my room for days, eventually I got over it and when it was time to go to the airport to say goodbye to them, I did, we cried, we hugged, we promised each other we would meet up next summer, by then I would already have the money saved. They left. We never heard from them again.

The days went by and nothing, I remember the grandmother, the pain on her face, the nights she went on without sleeping, home alone without her daughter and granddaughter who were supposed to call her as soon as they arrived in Spain, and yet they never did. Eventually they were reported as missing, surprisingly enough the guy had given out his real name and last name the whole time, so after the cops got involved turns out he had this huge record in Spain and Italy, and had been in jail for drugs, prostitution, kidnapping, extortion and god knows what else. The police told their family that they were most likely sold into a human trafficking ring, that this was very common and that sadly there were too many cases like it, there was nothing to do but wait. Last time anyone saw them or had any register of them was at the airport in Seville when they arrived. Nothing else.

It breaks my heart even to this day, and to think that if my parents had said yes, I wouldn’t be here today, sends chills down my spine. Sometimes I look Maritza up in facebook, in hopes that I’ll find her, maybe she regained back her life and her freedom, but nothing ever shows up. The grandmother died in 2013 too, sadly without ever seeing or hearing about her daughter and granddaughter again.

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The Villisca axe murders

This is my great-grandmothers story. She passed away in 2005, at the ripe old age of 103. This story is family folklorebut unlike most family folklores, which have been exaggerated with time, this one is 100% true. (I created a throwaway in case some internet sleuth finds out my family name, I’d rather not have it tied to my main account.)

This story takes place in the year 1912 in a little Iowa farming community named Villisca. One summer day, my great-grandmother was asked if she would like to stay overnight at her friends house with two other girls. When my great-grandmother asked her parents if she could attend the sleepover, she was told that she couldnt, as there was too much housework that needed to be done, but that she could go over the next day after her morning chores had been completed.
The next morning, my great-grandmothers friend, her siblings, her parents, and the two guests who were staying overnight were found murdered.

Police discovered that all 8 people had been bludgeoned to death. The murder weapon, an axe, was left in the house. The murder has never been solved.

To this day, my familys unofficial motto is, saved by chores. And yes, this story is used in my family to scare children into completing their housework.

Why wasn’t my boyfriend scared?

When I was 17, I was at my boyfriend Tom’s house (his dad house) and my bf’s dad went to town to get some food, as the house was miles away from town and very secluded. We had just been mudding and I was filthy so I took a shower while my boyfriend watched tv.

The walls were pretty thin so i could hear that a man came into the house and I could tell by the way Tom was speaking that it wasn’t his dad.

A few minutes later, my bf says he wants to shower with me because the mud was very uncomfortable. About 5 minutes in, we started making out. We made out for a while and then out of the corner of my eye, I see a black flash and then the water got really cold. I didn’t think to look out and Tom and I kept kissing after we adjusted the water.

Tom wanted to sit down so we did and the movement tossed the shower curtain around and I got a glimpse of what was on the other side. Standing there was a large black man staring at us.

I scream and Tom says “Man what are you doing here?” and the guy said “Just letting you know that I can see your dad driving down the road so you may want to get out of the shower”. Turns out the guy was Tom’s dads best friend so Tom knew him. We got out and I was shaking. I tried to get away from him and go to Tom’s bedroom but he followed me.

He asked if he could “finish me off with his tongue”. I felt sick to my stomach. I was 17 and this guy had to have been in his 40’s.It scared me so bad that I ran out of the bedroom and demanded to be taken home.

I didn’t realize until recently that this could have ended much worse. A lot of things really bother me about this situation. I have no idea why he would reach in and turn the water to make it colder. And I wonder why my boyfriend didn’t take it as seriously as I did. He wasn’t creeped out at all.

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“Get in the van”

So I was around 16 or 17 yrs old when this happened. I used to work in a grocery store in what most might consider a bad neighborhood. I always worked till around 11pm and had to cross a fairly busy street to get to the bus stop. The bus stop isn’t the most well lit and the buses have been known to pass people because they couldn’t see them sitting there.

So I’m waiting for the bus to pull up when this white mini van pulls up in front of me. This driver rolls down his window and asks how old I am. I just look at him because why would I tell you my age, random person?

He begins telling me that I should get in the van to go to church with him. I can see another person sitting in the dark back of the van. I can’t really see him but I can tell he’s looking at me. The driver then begins to insist that I get in the van so he can save my soul.

Right when he starts to open the door and I start easing back to run, the bus pulls up behind him blowing its horn at him. He slams his palms on the steering wheel and speeds off as I’m running to jump on the bus.

I tell the driver what happened and he drops me off right in front of my house and wait till I run inside.

He wouldn’t leave

This happened about two years ago when I was 16, at my best friends flat. It was around midnight and both of us were in her kitchen dancing around and being silly in short shorts and bikini tops. Her mum was passed out on the sofa the other end of the flat, bearing in mind she lives on the ground floor.

After a few minutes we noticed an old car slowly driving past the window, we thought nothing of it really, until we saw it come back and stop right outside. We thought maybe it was one of her neighbours but a bit odd as they were all quite old and probably wouldn’t be driving that time of night. We just continued with what we were doing when her door buzzer went off. My best friend without thinking pressed the button to open the main door, not even asking who it was.

When she opened her door a tall large bald man, dressed in old paint splattered clothes walks up to us at the door. “you ordered a male escort?” He said. Me and my best friend looked at each other with confusion, and I said that no we didn’t order anyone you have the wrong house. He kept edging his way closer into our doorway and said, “no you definitely told me this address.” We got really freaked out and asked him to leave, but he proceeded to tell us he is coming in and made his way into the doorway, just as he did my friends mum comes to the door and asks him who he is. He backs right up from the door and starts stuttering, saying he got called to this address.

She asks him what is this address and he doesn’t have a clue, and just makes some street up while he is stuttering, trying to think of somewhere. He apologises and then leaves. Me and my best friend are pretty shaken up but decide it’s a good idea not to prance around late at night not wearing a lot of clothing.

The man on the balcony

When I was about 11 years old I lived in a one bedroom apartment with my Mother (we were very poor) and the bedroom had double sliding glass doors that led out to the balcony. We lived on the third floor for safety and the cheaper rent it offered.

My Mother often stayed in the living room late into the evening because she liked to watch TV before bed and I preferred quiet.

One night I was up in the top bunk (we had a bunk bed with a full size mattress on the bottom and a twin on top) and my Mom came into the room and called my name quietly. I’m a light sleeper so I woke right up. She said, “there is someone on the back porch – don’t move.” She was standing just outside the doorway to the room and had stopped entering when the saw the shadow of someone behind the blinds covering the glass doors. The type of blinds that are flat when closed but with the lights around the complex you could see his shadow through them.

I just remember being shocked that someone could get up onto a third floor balcony!

Then he started to knock – really slowly – that’s when I got scared. My Mom went into the kitchen and called 911. I stayed as still as I could hoping he would just go away.

It couldn’t have been more than 3 minutes but the next time I opened my eyes he was gone. When the police arrived about 3 minutes after that they looked all over the complex but could find no sign of him. When one of the officers went onto our balcony there was no indication of how he’d gotten up to the third floor but there were two very evident palm prints where he’d leaned against the glass for who knows how long before my Mom walked in. It never happened to us again – I hope it didn’t happen to anyone else either.

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“I could get more kills if I wanted to”

I went to middle and high school with a tall, skinny guy who I had occasional interactions with, but I always got a weird vibe from. In my senior year, I saw a Facebook post he made that said, “I bet I could get more kills than the Virginia Tech guy if I wanted to, but I don’t want to.” Despite him saying he didn’t want to, I found this concerning enough to report to the school.

Fast forward a couple months later, he was out of JJC and, to make a long story short, he had found out I reported him. We had apparently made peace after smoking weed with some mutual friends and it was enough for me to not expect getting jumped in the hallway at any time.

We both ended up going to a local college and I would see him around campus. Whenever he spotted me, we’d have these brief, awkward conversations about how life was going and I would try my best to stay polite while not sounding creeped out.

Then one day I was at McDonald’s with my roommate when I hear someone whisper in my ear, “I’m going to kill you someday.” I turned around to see him smile and wave at me before walking away.

I haven’t seen him since then, but I always stay alert for the next random moment where I’ll encounter him.

Robbed of my innocence

This still haunts me to this day. I remember it pretty vividly, and I consider myself to have a bad memory.
When I was 10, my mother needed to go to Wal-Mart to grab some groceries. Being the hard headed kid I was, I didn’t want to go inside so she let me stay in the car. I was reading a book and listening to music when all of a sudden an old beat up tan car parks next to me. I look over, and it’s some guy in his 50s. The guy then opens his car door, and he’s completely naked except for a trench coat. I freak out, and lock the doors. He begins to masturbate profusely while staring at me, and I just avoid eye contact. This goes on for about 10 until he finishes, and leaves.

My mom comes back about 20 minutes later, and I tell her what happened. She is pissed, and flags a security officer, but she didn’t know English so I don’t think it got through. My mom never left me alone in the car again until I was in my teens when I would just stay home. I also never found out any more information about him.

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I never told anyone about my friend’s dad

This is only brief, but scared me for a long long time. I used to live in a very isolated rural town with a population of approx 120 people, and as expected I knew everyone there. My best friend and I were your typical benign teenage delinquents, and our favourite game at the time was an activity we referred to as “Dead Fred”. We would stuff a full length wetsuit with newspaper, dress it in long sleeves and jeans and leave it lying in the middle of our street at night-time. Meanwhile, we’d be hiding in the bushes laughing and musing on the varied reactions of those who came across the scene.

One night, a car seemingly didn’t even notice Dead Fred and drove right over the top of him at speed. The driver screeched to a stop about 50 meters away and got out of the car. I recognised him, it was a close friend’s dad, a recently retired accountant who I knew well and had been my rugby coach for the last few seasons. He looked unstable, possibly shaken but likely drunk (drink driving was quite common in such a small country town). Without much hesitation, he pulled a rifle from the boot of his car (once again, quite a common thing to have in a small country town), fired several shots at the “corpse” from afar and drove away.

My friend and I kept this to ourselves, and as far as I know we are the only two who know. The driver remained a close family friend, continued to coach me in rugby and has since had grandchildren. I still see him when I go home for holidays. As far as I know, he never fessed up to the incident, and carried on his life for the next 23 years, and in to the present day, as if nothing ever happened.

The little girls room

When I was about 6/7, I used to take swimming lessons in a local pool after finishing school twice a week on Wednesday and Fridays. On Fridays mum would take me into McDonalds to get a milkshake as a treat afterwards. I’d sit and drink my shake, then we’d head home, no problems. This day was different.. I’d finished my shake and wanted the toilet before we left. So in I went, into the ladies on my own as I usually did. I noticed one cubicle was locked and thought nothing of it, went in the second, did my thing, flushed and noticed that the person in the other cubicle was unlocking the door too. I hadn’t heard them flush.

I turned around and it was a man. Old, disgusting and tall. Why was he there? I innocently said “this is for ladies only, mister” and he said “why do you think I’m in here, little girl? It’s music to my ears. Where is your mummy?” He took a few strands of my hair and twirled them between his grim fingers and reached a hand to grab me by the shoulder. I shook out of his grip and ran fast as I could back to mum, crying. I told her what happened. She told an attendant but by the time they checked he’d managed to slip out unnoticed and into the busy street.

Be careful when driving alone

My dad was driving alone at night down a small country road with trees on both side. As he’s driving he barely notices something kind of small hanging up ahead. He slammed on the brakes and was able to slow down enough for the object to dink on the windshield. He freaked out and gunned it out of there.

Someone had hung a heavy object from a tree branch so that it would smash the windshield of someone driving through and force them to pull over. At best it was an irresponsible and dangerous prank, but its likely that someone planned on robbing/killing/kidnapping etc…

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Every day people post their nightmarish true stories to the Reddit group Lets Not Meet. If you’ve ever been curious about what kind of creeps are out there in the world, here are some of the most interesting recent posts.

He said he was my dad

I was living in a Scottsdale Arizona at the time , I believe it was around 2000 and I was 8 or 9 depending the month I’m not 100% sure. We’ll there used to be a huge park just behind the row of houses that were facing mine. I could walk there in less than 5 minutes and I did frequently because I was new to the neighborhood and was hoping to me meet some friends to play with . After a while of doing that I had a few people I would call friends.

One weekend I head over to the park after saturday cartoons, everything was going well until some alcoholic man pulls up and starts yelling at me from his pick up truck, I ignore him and keep playing on the monkey bars. He gets out of the truck and starts chasing me , I was always playing tag and running with the friends that i had made so I easily ran through the playground and avoided him for a little while. But I was really scared and then I see a woman with a baby sitting in the shade 60 yards away so I ran as fast as I could to her and then he decides to walk over to her to avoid suspicion.

He tells her that he’s my dad and Im grounded and shouldnt be outside . I explain to her that Ive never met him and hes trying to kidnap me and she confronts him and tells him to go away. Luckily there was a nice lady with a baby other wise I might not be here.

“Stay at least 3 yards behind her or she’ll notice”

I live in a semi-sketchy town in the Pacific North West. About two blocks from where I live, there’s this bridge over the ocean (with a little beach) where a lot of crime takes place. Lots of things like bodies being found there, rapes, etc. So I got off the bus that takes me to this bridge (it’s the closest bus stop to my apartment).

Three teenage boys cross the street towards where I am. I cross the street away from them to get to my building. They cross back. I thought that was weird but whatever. I start taking this narrow path up the beach towards another street, and they’re following me. I pick up the pace and glance over my shoulder. I’m a 21-year-old woman and these guys looked maybe 16 but I’m 5’4 and pretty skinny so I’m doing that thing that a lot of women do when they think perhaps they’re being followed and weigh the odds of fighting them. This path I’m taking is fucking desolate and no one’s around but there’s still some light out and I was glancing over my shoulder as they were filling the gap between us.

I couldn’t be totally sure they were following me until I heard one boy say, “Stay at least 3 yards behind her or she’ll notice.” When I turn the corner out of sight, I sprint behind a hedge and wait for them to head out once they realize they lost me. I text my boyfriend that I’m being followed and he agrees to leave work early to meet me where I am just in case. They turn the corner just then and I realize the middle one, the tallest and possibly oldest, has a fucking knife on him. I hear one of them say something like “She’s probably on the street over there,” and they leave.

My boyfriend meets me soon after. I’m so glad they didn’t figure out that I lived like almost right there.

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Every day people post their nightmarish true stories to the Reddit group Lets Not Meet. If you’ve ever been curious about what kind of creeps are out there in the world, here are some of the most interesting recent posts.

He was trying to come in the window

Just to give you some background information, I am a 29 year-old female and this happened to me 4 years ago. My family lived on a farm in rural outback Western Australia (just north of Geraldton) in a modest-looking wooden farmhouse. My son and I lived here alone most of the time, while my husband worked on rotation up north on the mines.

We had no neighbours, no mobile phone reception and very little connection with the outside world with the exception of the television. There was only one window in the house, situated above my bed in the bedroom. It was a small old wooden framed window with no curtains. However the window was completely jammed and as much as I had tried to close it, there was about 2 inches of opening near the bottom of the window frame. My husband and I had spent a while trying to oil the hinges and loosen it up the day before he left to go to work again, but we gave up as it wasnt a huge issue at the time

Fast forward to a couple of nights later, I am standing in front of the television doing the ironing and watching Sex and the City reruns while my son is asleep in my bed. As I walk up the hallway to enter the laundry to grab another load of washing, I pass my bedroom and pop my head in to check on my son. My heart stops. The window frame above my bed is shuffling from side to side, my eyes scan down and what I see next will never leave my mind again. There were two hands squeezed through the gap of my window trying to lift up the jammed frame. I screamed the house down, grabbed my son, the phone and locked myself in the bathroom and called the police.

Id hate to think what would have happened if I hadnt have been walking past my bedroom at that exact moment

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Every day people post their nightmarish true stories to the Reddit group Lets Not Meet. If you’ve ever been curious about what kind of creeps are out there in the world, here are some of the most interesting recent posts.

Read more: http://thoughtcatalog.com/christine-stockton/2016/02/nightmarish-true-stories-that-will/

WATCH: Cocky Biker Goes To Thrash A 57 Chevy Bel Air Instead Gets A Face Full Of Dirt!

Suzuki puts out the SV650 motorcycle and its always had somewhat of a cult following to it.

Theyre quick and a blast to ride. Here we have a SV650 going up against a 59-year-old car and its probably going to be painful to see the results, right? Nobody likes seeing a classic car like this get whooped. Well, hold on. Youll want to check this out to see how this actually does go down! If youre a classic car fan you are going to be proud!

How this is even possible, Im not sure. A hefty 57 Bel Air dusting out a modern day motorcycle? Well theres some mods done to this Chevy and believe it or not the thing is able to fly because of them.

Check out this motorcycle cam footage and watch what goes down!

Read more: http://damn.com/57-chevy-bel-air/

Every Day I Am Carsick

Please help me. Every day I am dragged screaming from my home and stuffed into a gorgeous car that costs a million dollars and I am forced to drive forever in nauseating circles while one of my loud comedian friends screams at me. It is Hell. It is a true misery to be Jerry Seinfeld. Every day I am carsick.

I do not want to be in the cars. The cars are my prison. Every moment that I am in the beautiful fancy cars is nauseous agony for me. While I lie sleeping in my bed, strong hands grab me by the head and they shove me into the drivers seat of the most beautiful car I have ever seen and Im not allowed to leave. I am forced to drive all over the world and I become so dizzy and carsick that I cant help but blast the cars horn while puke rockets out of my mouth and breaks through he windshield like a geyser eruption. This is no way for Jerry Seinfeld to live.

When I am in the cars getting carsick, the producers force me to drive all across the globe to pick up my comedian friends. My comedian friends are an ordeal. They do not understand how to be quiet. Every day I need to shuttle some chatty clown to a place I hate and listen to them talk forever. They do not stop yelling and I do not stop feeling carsick. This is what my life has become.

Yesterday Roseanne Barr and I drove in circles for nine hours in a 1954 Rolls-Royce and I got sick 19 times.

There needs to be a way for this to stop. Every day is a horrifying new movement in the symphony of nausea that is my life. Last week I vomited all over the interior of a 1979 Porsche while Jay Leno sat in the passenger seat and cried. Then Leno started vomiting right along with me. It was me and Leno puking our minds out while we drove around Los Angeles. It seemed like things couldnt get any worse, but then while we were stopped at a traffic light, the backseat of the car opened up and in climbed my comedian friend Steve Harvey and without saying anything Steve Harvey started vomiting right along with me and Leno. The three of us filled the 1979 Porsche with vomit and then Steve Harvey opened the door and left the car as silently as he had entered it, leaving Leno and I alone in the ruined Porsche.

The car could not be salvaged and so they had to blow it up. I had to pay for it and it cost more money than a house. Since that horrible day I have only grown more carsick, which I did not think was even possible.

I have completely lost control of my horrendous carsick life. Yesterday Roseanne Barr and I drove in circles for nine hours in a 1954 Rolls-Royce and I got sick 19 times. Roseanne Barr offered to run me over in the fabulous antique car that had become my queasy prison but the producers would not let her do it. I got out of the car and tried to run into the Pacific Ocean, but my carsickness was so severe that I had to sit down on the sidewalk and I barfed into my own lap. Then they stuffed me back into the car and made me drive for 12 hours straight.

If you are reading this, please help me. I cant believe how carsick I always am. There must be peace for Jerry Seinfeld. Please help me not be carsick. I will do anything. Just dont make me get back into the cars with my comedian friends. My friends are so loud and I am so dizzy. Oh Christ, I am carsick even when I am asleep. Please help me.

Read more: http://www.clickhole.com/blogpost/every-day-i-am-carsick-3943