Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Teen Witnesses Dad’s Dangerous Road Rage Incident with Gun on a Family Drive Home #72

Episode Date: August 17, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #roadrage #familytrauma #gunviolence #nearaccident #psychologicaltrauma  During a routine drive, a teenager faces a shocking moment as their father’s anger spirals out of control, pulling a gun in a heated road rage conflict. This true-to-life horror story captures the raw fear, tension, and lasting impact such an event has on a young witness and the fragile family bonds strained by violence and fear.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, roadrageincident, familydrama, gunviolence, trauma, psychologicalimpact, trueevents, nearaccident, streetviolence, tensefamily, fear, danger, domesticfear, eyewitnessaccount, survival

This all went down just last weekend, and I honestly can't stop thinking about it. The whole thing's been gnawing at me since it happened, and I feel like if I don't get it out, my brain's going to combust. Okay, so here's the thing. I'm 15. I've lived with my dad my whole life, obviously, and I've always known there's this, edge to him. Like, he's not a bad guy. He's funny as hell most of the time, super protective of me and my little brothers,

and he'll bend over backwards for people he cares about. But there's also this side of him that's different. Angrier. Growing up, I heard stories from my mom about how short his fuse used to be when he was younger. Fights at bars, arguments that escalated fast, a few nights spent in holding cells when he was in his 20s. But by the time I was old enough to really notice stuff, he seemed calmer. Like he'd left all that behind. At least, that's what I thought.

He never yelled at me. Never hit me. He didn't even raise his voice around Mom. To me, he was just Dad. The big guy who'd make corny jokes at the dinner table and let me watch scary movies when Mom wasn't home. But last weekend changed how I see him. And not in a good way.

It was Saturday afternoon, and me, Dad, and my twin baby brothers, yeah, they're three, double trouble, were out running errands. Grocery shopping, picking up a package for mom, stopping at the park for a bit so the twins could burn off some energy. It was a good day. Chill, sunny, the kind of day where you don't expect anything bad to happen. I was riding shotgun, scrolling through my phone and DJing with dad's ancient A-U-X cord, while the twins were strapped into their car seats in the back.

They'd finally stopped screaming over who got to hold the toy truck and were half asleep. Everything felt, normal. Until it didn't. We were cruising along a two-lane road, not far from our neighborhood, when this guy on a motorcycle comes out of nowhere. He's flying down the road like he's trying to qualify for the next fast and furious movie. There's a big ass-no speeding sign clear as day, and he blows right past it, cutting in front of us so close I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes. Dad swerves hard to avoid him.

The tires screech. The whole car jolts sideways, and we almost slam into a tree on the shoulder. For a split second, I thought this is it. By some miracle, Dad gets the car under control and stops. Nobody's hurt, thank God. But my baby brothers are screaming bloody murder in the back, scared out of their tiny minds. I'm trying to turn around and calm them down, talking in that sing-song voice that adults use when they're trying to reassure little kids. Meanwhile, I glance over

at Dad, and his face. I've never seen him look like that before. His jaws clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and his eyes are glued to the disappearing speck of the motorcycle ahead. Moth asterisk Kerr, he mutters under his breath, his voice low and dangerous. I panic a little. I know that tone. It's not good. Dad, please, I say softly.

Just calm down. It's over, okay. We're fine. Nobody's hurt. Like F. Asterisk C.K. I'm going to calm down. He snaps, slamming his palm on the steering wheel. Before I can say anything else, he jerks the car back onto the road and guns it. Dad, what are you doing?

I yell. But he doesn't answer. He's locked in. Tunnel vision. His jaws set like stone, and the car's picking up speed fast. No, no, no, I whisper, covering my face with my hands. I already know where this is going. The twins are crying louder now, scared from the sudden acceleration.

I twist in my seat, trying to shush them, but my heart's hammering in my chest. We're chasing the guy. It only takes a minute for us to catch up. Dad pulls up beside the motorcycle at a stoplight. My stomach drops. Dad, don't. Please, just let it go, I beg, my voice shaking. It's not worth it.

He's not worth it, but it's like he doesn't even hear me. He rolls down his window and leans halfway out, his face twisted with rage. You motherfker, he roars. You almost got us killed. My kids are in this car. You blind or just fking stupid, the motorcyclist turns, startled, then flips Dad off. That's it. That's all it takes for the situation to go nuclear.

F-A-U. Dad screams. Pull over, you coward, now they're in a full-blown screaming match. Both of them yelling over each other, swearing, trading insults. It goes on for what feels like hours, even though it's probably only a few minutes. I'm sitting there, hands pressed over my face, silently praying for this to end. My stomach's in knots. The twins are bawling.

My whole body's tense, like I'm bracing for. for a car crash. And then Dad does something that makes my blood run cold. He reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out his revolver. Dad. I scream, grabbing his arm. His fingers tighten around the handle, but I'm gripping his wrist with both hands, tears stinging my eyes. Please, don't do this. You're going to ruin everything. You'll go to jail. We need you. Mom needs you The twins need you Something must have gotten through to him

Because after what feels like forever He exhales sharply and shoves The gun back into the glove box He flips the motorcyclist off one last time and hits the gas Leaving the guy in the dust The car is dead silent on the drive home The only sound is the twins sniffling in the backseat

In my own heart pounding in my ears Finally, I break the silence Just what the hell was that? I asked quietly, not even looking at him. Dad lets out this weird laugh, like I just told him a joke. He pats me on the back like nothing happened. Ah, lighten up, kid. No harm done, no harm done.

You pulled a F. Asteris King Gunn on a guy. I yell, my voice cracking. He laughs again. Relax. It was just a scare. him a little. You're acting like I was actually going to use it. That's not funny, Dad. Oh, come on. You're not gay, are you? Only gay guys get scared like that. I'm not gay, really. Then next time you should have helped me pin the guy down while I gave him the ass kicking he deserved.

Pa, he smirks. Relax, I'm just messing with you. Learn to take a joke. When we get home, I bolt inside and tell mom everything. She's horrid. You what? She yells at him. Dad just waves her off, chuckling. It was just a harmless prank. The kids overreacting. You two really need to lighten up and learn to take a joke once in a while, but I know it wasn't a joke. It wasn't harmless. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into something dark and dangerous. And now I can't stop thinking, what if next time he doesn't stop. What if me or mom aren't there to pull him back? What if the gun goes off? I'm scared of what he might do. Not to me. Not to us. But to someone else. And I don't know what to do about it.

The end.