It was the night before Easter: March 30, 2002. On my way home from a late church service, I stopped by the grocery store for a few items. The parking lot was all but deserted. Most people were likely home watching one of the Final Four basketball games or filling Easter baskets.

As I left the store with a bag in each hand, I noticed a nondescript van had parked next to my car. The van and my car were two of only four vehicles in the entire parking lot. “That’s weird,” I thought. “They could have parked anywhere.” But dismissed it with an oh well thought.

Stepping down from the curb, I saw a nice-looking youngish man in jeans and a white T-shirt exit the van. He took a few steps, then turned around and went back to the van. “He forgot his grocery list,” my mind offered up as an excuse for his behavior.

As I reached my car, the man exited the van again. His van was facing in and my car was facing out. I opened my car hatch and set my bags down. He was now close. “Hello,” I said.

He smiled and then swiveled his head to the space between our vehicles. “Hey!” he said. “You have a flat,” and pointed to my driver’s side front tire.

My natural inclination would have been to move between the vehicles to examine the tire. But as I took just one step in that direction, danger bells went off in my head.

You see, I had recently listened to Gavin de Becker’s book The Gift of Fear. Some of the author’s points raced through my brain:

1) Women will make up excuses for a man’s strange behavior because we want to be nice.  He must have forgotten his grocery list.

2) Women will ignore an obvious oddity because we don’t want to be seen as someone who frightens easily. A parking lot with a gazillion empty spaces and a van parks next to my car?

Do Not Go Down There. I swear that message came through so clearly, it was as though someone had spoken it aloud.

I reversed my step forward and started moving away while saying, “You’re right; I do. Thanks so much,” as I pulled my cell phone from my purse.

“I can fix it—for free,” he offered quickly. “I carry tools in my van.”

“Thanks, but no. We live close and my husband is home,” I answered as I kept moving closer to the store.

“We can’t have you driving around on a flat tire. I can have you out of here quickly. I promise,” he responded as he followed me.

“Nope, I’m good, thanks,” I said as I reached the store’s entryway. The man hesitated a moment more, then strode to his van and drove away. He never did go in for groceries.

My husband and the police arrived. The man had apparently removed the tire’s valve stem cap, then pushed on the valve to let the air out.

My guess is that the man wanted me to walk down that mostly blocked-from-view passage to abduct me. Had he simply wanted my purse, he could have grabbed it and gotten away.

My biggest regret is that I hadn’t paid attention to the van’s details or gotten the tag number.

In considering the event afterward, I realized the man had exhibited most of the classic “pre-incident indicators” that Mr. de Becker identifies:

Charming and nice – He was clean-cut, polite, and helpful.

Offered too many details – “I carry tools in my van.”

Forced teaming – “WE can’t have you driving on a flat tire.”

Loan sharking – “I can fix it for free.”

Unsolicited promise – “I promise” (about fixing it quickly)

Discounting the word NO – I had said some version of NO more than once, but he persisted.

I recommend this book to everyone. Gavin de Becker is a well-respected expert on the prediction and management of violence. He is a compelling writer; from the first paragraph I thought this might be a book that could change my life. Little did I know it would do just that.

To my readers: Tell us about a book that made a dramatic impact on your life.