I've had one particular instance of tailgating that stands out for me. I was on my way to work, before dawn, on a rural stretch of highway. It was four lane (two each way), but with frequent hills and curves, and in deer country. A heavy pickup pulled up tight behind, with his headlights glaring into my car. I slowed; he stayed right on my bumper. I switched lanes. He switched after me. Perhaps I should have pulled to the shoulder and stopped, but I was getting flat scared. If I accelerated to 75 mph, much to fast for the conditions, he would stay back at a reasonable distance. I was hoping dearly that there would be a patrolman along the way, but none appeared. He followed until I came to my turn-off point, and went on. It took a bit for my hair to settle back down.