This story is not as cool as some of the others, but I believe this actually happened. It takes place in the 70’s.
My father’s friend is a forest ranger who also happens to be a competitive pistol shooter. Like, who can hit the most targets the fastest. That sort of thing.
He is driving with his wife, playing car poker with a local car club. Basically, the group comes up with objectives, generally places to drive to, and you are awarded a card for accomplishing them. The goal, of course, is to get the best hand. All of these objectives are completed over a weekend, and are done individually. That is, the drivers go their own way. This is not a caravan.
So, he and his wife are driving their convertible, I think it was a Triumph, along the back roads of Western Washington, near Concrete, WA. They come around a bend in the road and a large pickup dragging a good-sized log comes tearing out, perpendicular to the road, so that the log is now blocking their path. Putting the car in reverse and looking behind him, the husband sees another truck do the same thing, effectively boxing him, and his wife, in.
Each pickup bed is occupied by three to four rednecks. One of whom has a shotgun. One of the rednecks, clearly the leader, jumps down from the bed and walks over to the car. It being a nice day, the windows are already down. The redneck leader leans into the car and leers at the man’s wife. “That is a fine-looking woman you got there.” The husband’s pulse races.
Being a competitive shooter, and a forest ranger, technically a peace officer, the husband carries a pistol under the seat of his car. While the leader of the redneck bandits walked up to the car, the husband slowly reached under his seat and pulled up his revolver, and concealed it under his legs. As soon as he heard the leader imply that these men were going to rape his wife, he grabbed the leader by the collar and put the pistol to his forehead.
“You will have your guys move that log in front of us or I will blow your fucking head off.”
The leader was silent for a moment. The calculations running in his head, he said, “You can’t get all of us.”
“Sure. But you will be dead.”
Self-preservation ruling the day for the leader, he motioned for the front log to be moved. The husband drove forward slowly, keeping hold of the leader’s collar until he was clear of the obstacle. He made it past and got the fuck out of there.