2 Disturbing TRUE Uber Horror Stories

[Music] In the year 2014, I frequently used the app Uber because I wasn't able to drive for 12 months due to some DUI charges. Just a stupid mistake! Overall, there's this nightclub bar in my town that I would sometimes go to on the weekends with my friends.

Sometimes I would get a ride home with the designated driver if we had one, and sometimes we would catch an Uber. This night, I wasn't feeling too great, so I left a little early. It was somewhere between 1 and 2 in the morning; it was way too cold to walk home, so I called for an Uber.

A guy nearby named Alex popped up, and I got to be honest, he was a little creepy looking. He was older, didn't really smile in his picture, and he had a grayish goatee with a black beanie cap on. He was only 2 miles away, so I didn't really care.

It said he had a Chevy Malibu, which sounded nice, so I requested he come pick me up. I waited on the bench outside the club next to the bouncer, who stood still like a statue, hands folded together. About 5 minutes later, a silver 2003 or something Chevy Malibu pulled up in front of the club.

I stood up, a bit disappointed; it was such an old, ratty looking car. The guy didn't call me over or honk or anything—he just waited by the curb. So, I got up and entered the back seat of the car.

Right away, things got uncomfortable. He didn't say hello, he didn't shake my hand, he didn't even turn his head to look at me. All he said was, in a very quiet voice, "Where you headed to?

" to which I replied with my address. We began moving down Main Street, but in the wrong direction of my house. I told him this, and he turned left at the next intersection.

Now we were moving away from the main roads and down the quieter residential areas. He didn't put my address into his phone, so I felt really strange. I didn't know if he was expecting me to direct him or not.

I ended up putting my address into my own phone so he could listen. When the GPS said to turn left down the next street, he completely missed it. I made a confused hand gesture; he noticed it and said, "I just got to make a quick stop.

Don't worry, I'll give you a discount. " Even though I was drunk, I still knew something bad was going on. Then, that's when I noticed the handgun sticking out from his middle glove box next to him.

By now, I was trying to figure out how to get out of this car. At the next red light, I tried the door handle very quietly, but it wouldn't open. I saw that the child lock was on, and from this point forward, my heart was racing.

The man was driving us far out of the direction of my house; we must have been 2 towns over by now. I was getting desperate. I couldn't call the cops because I didn't know what this guy might do.

I figured my best option would be attempting to flick the child lock switch next to him by the front seat. I had to somehow slide over to the opposite side of the back seat behind him without him noticing. This was one of the most tense moments of my life.

I locked my sight on his head through the rearview mirror, making sure he wasn't looking. I very casually slid behind him; thankfully, he didn't notice. Now came the scariest part: I had to reach for the button up front at the next red light before he could do anything.

Each light pass, I felt more and more tension build up as I was waiting—waiting for one of them to turn yellow. Eventually, one finally did. He slowed the car at an intersection that would usually be busy during daylight hours; it was a perfect escape point.

The car came to a stop, and I knew this light wasn't very long, so I had to be quick. A car was stopped at the opposite side of the intersection, which made me feel a little better. With all of my courage, I reached my hand up to the lit-up child lock button, and I must have startled him because he jumped out from his seat.

He screamed at me, and as I feared he would, he went for the gun right next to him. I was able to open the door and flee to the nearby Cadillac Escalade, where I banged on their windows asking for help. They drove off completely avoiding me, but it didn't matter because the man in his Chevy Malibu was already gone down the block.

I ran into a nearby grocery store that was open 24 hours, where I called a taxi. This was a very sobering experience because I don't remember being drunk at all in that store or during the taxi ride home. I reported the driver to Uber, who said they would escalate the situation to the authorities.

It wasn't until a whole week later that an officer finally showed up at my front door for some questioning, and that was the end of that. I have no idea what became of that guy, but I've never used Uber since. As a former Uber driver, I've dealt with a whole bunch of unpleasant characters—from the drunken groups of friends on Saturday nights to the people who pretend to be handicapped to get free rides.

But every so often, you may pick up somebody who can just be classified as a straight-up creep. I've picked up a few of these guys, but never one quite as bad as a guy named. .

. "Tom, it was a Friday night in December, one of the coldest nights of the year. I had nothing to do, so I figured I'd do some late-night pickups.

This was two years ago; I was 18 and had a new Honda Accord. My parents kind of spoiled me a bit. I was a very skinny 18-year-old, though— that's why my dad told me to always keep a blade in my car, because you never know what kind of nuts are getting into the car.

A guy named Tom popped up a couple of miles away by a major shopping area. I responded to his request and started driving in that direction. I pulled up in front of the shopping center, where I saw a group of teenagers hanging out.

It looked like trouble; I hoped this Tom guy wasn't part of this group. A bunch of them looked at me in my car as I slowly passed. Eventually, I just hit the gas and went further into the parking lot at the shopping center, wanting to get away from this group.

I did two laps around the whole parking lot until I finally noticed, through my left mirror, somebody approaching my car from behind. I rolled down my window and called out, "Tom! " He called back, "Yes.

" I told him to hop in. I had to repeat myself three times, and given that all I was saying was "hop in," it very clearly made the situation very weird from the start. The fourth time, he finally understood me and walked slowly around the back, getting into the seat right behind me.

Usually, the people I picked up would sit diagonally from me, which is what I preferred. When people sat right behind me, it just made me a little paranoid sometimes, especially when the person seemed kind of creepy. This guy was old; he had to be in his upper 40s.

"Where to? " I asked him. He told me an address, which I entered into my phone.

By his voice, I could tell he was a very heavy smoker. Come to think of it, my car was starting to smell like cigarettes too. The address he gave me was 10 miles away, which was fine since, in the end, I'd be making more money.

I tried making small talk initially, which didn't work out too well. If I would ask him yes or no questions, sometimes he would just mumble, and any other questions led to dry responses. I stopped talking when he completely ignored one of my questions.

That was within just five miles; there were still five to go. By the six-mile mark, things started getting uneasy in there. I was afraid to look into the rearview mirror because I was so sure that he was staring at me.

I took a quick half-second glance and saw I was right. He was, in fact, staring at me. My body forced my foot down heavier on the gas; I wanted this ride to be over sooner.

By the eight-mile mark, I started to realize we were in the middle of nowhere. We were on basically a deserted street, with woods on either side and occasional buildings. I was growing suspicious now as to where this address he told me actually was, so while driving, I dragged my finger across my phone to slide the map in the direction of the address.

It seemed to lead to a dead-end street with no surrounding streets nearby. I was getting more and more nervous with each passing minute. Now I shot a glance back up again at the mirror, and he was still watching me.

I finally summoned up the courage to ask him if the address he gave me was of his house. There was silence for a few moments, and I thought he was once again going to ignore me or possibly didn't hear me. But five seconds later, he finally answered, "Yes.

" There was less than a mile left in the drive now, still surrounded by nothing but woods with the occasional empty-looking building. I was approaching the dead-end street that the address he gave me resided on, hoping some houses would come into sight. As the street came up, I slowed down so I could get a good look at it, but nothing could be seen—just pitch blackness.

I could only imagine why he wanted to get me out here alone, so far away from anybody or anything. I casually kept driving, pretending like I missed it, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he did.

Instantly, he hopped out of his seat and yelled at me to turn around. Honestly, I felt like my life was on the line, so I apologized and did a quick three-point turn. As I was re-approaching the dead-end street, I dug my hands into the netting compartment on the side of my seat, where I kept my blade.

I very quietly flicked the blade open and held it tight in my right hand, ready to use it. I turned down the dead-end road with my headlights now displaying just what I thought I would see: nothing but trees on either side. I made it to the end of the road, not a single house or building in sight.

I just knew something was about to go down; I was just trying to physically and mentally prepare myself for it. Suddenly, he said in as soft a voice as he probably could, "Thanks for the ride. " I wasn't even thinking about money at this point.

He opened his door, but before stepping out, he said, "Could you get out of the car for a second? I need help carrying my bag. I have a bad back.

" But he didn't have a bag; I knew he didn't—he didn't come in with one. I replied, "Yeah, yeah, sure. " "Out, and I'll help you in a sec.

" The shakiness in my voice was too obvious. What happened next I never imagined. All of a sudden, I felt pressure on my neck.

It took me at least a second before I could realize he was choking me from the back seat. Immediately, I drove the blade into his left arm, and he screamed in pain, releasing his grip on my neck. He fell out of the car and onto the street, and I took that opportunity to turn the car around and practically floor it down the street until I returned to a busy road.

I actually didn't end up calling the cops; I was just too scared to do anything but drive home. By the time I got home, I just wanted to go to sleep and forget about it. Needless to say, I resigned from my Uber driving days after this incident.