I wasn't the driver, but a passenger in a truck full of people. My ex boyfriend had a 1979 F150 that he needed to find a replacement part for, and his friend informed him of an abandoned truck of the same year and model out in the boonies that had some perfectly good parts available. We were in his friends truck, a really nice crew cab on a six inch lift with HIDs and off-road tires. The kind that's meant to drive through the sticks without trouble.
This was when I still lived in my hometown, which is a small farming town in Deep South Texas. It was around 2am, after a night of drinking and BBQ, and we had driven about 15 miles out into the woods. Once the dirt road started to disappear, I admit it was fun as hell to tear through mud holes and over obstacles.
Our first scary moment was coming across an open clearing that was quite obviously used for the local KKK chapter demonstrations. Seats made of tree stumps and an enormous burn mark in the center. Also, a makeshift noose hanging from the tree. That gave me a horrible lump in my throat. There were run down houses in the distance every once in a while. Everybody knew that part about our town and it was just "meh, it's 2am and nobody is around, we are armed anyway, let's keep going."
We finally get to the truck and sure enough the parts he needed were in relatively good condition. Hundreds of dollars saved. Great. However, it was located in the middle of a "junk" spot, surrounded by old creepy RVs and trailers that were dilapidated and empty. The kind that belong in a horror movie.
Luckily we were able to extract the parts needed without trouble, and I think we got a little over confident especially being drunk and loud. After loading up the last part we just stood around joking/bullshitting, then all of a sudden we hear a bunch of yelling in the distance, and following that the sound of dogs. LOTS of dogs barking, viciously. Then more yelling.
We climbed into that truck and floored it out of there so fast it was a serious rush of adrenaline. Blazing through mud holes and over fallen trees. I realize we shouldn't have been out there in middle of the night in a notoriously racist/violent region of Texas, but I was 18 and trying to impress my country bumpkin friends. The entire time on the way back to civilization I was staring out the back window hoping to god some crazy Aryan brotherhood psychos with shotguns and viscous dogs wouldn't catch up to us and kill us all.