(FORTUNE Magazine) – Picture this: Egypt's chief of counterterrorism, a two-star general, has been posted to Giza. Because of the nature of his work, he lives in constant fear of attack--and yet he does not drive an armored car and has never had any formal security training. Each morning he leaves his high-rise apartment, climbs into his sedan, and drives his daily route to the office. One morning, just a few blocks from home, he turns right, as is his custom--and suddenly a car blocks the road. He stops and watches in horror while gunmen jump out. They unload three 30-round magazines from AK47s into the car. Seconds later, two more attackers pull up on a motorcycle. The passenger methodically pumps three bullets in the vicinity of the general's head, then douses the pockmarked car with gas and drops a match. Hours later at the general's autopsy, doctors establish the cause of death: burns. Not one bullet entered his body.

It's a true story, and a shocking one, from April 9, 1994. What is most shocking about it to Gerry Smith, executive vice president of International Training Inc. (ITI), is that the general allowed his assassins so much time and so many chances. "There was absolutely no reason for that guy to die," says Smith. "He could have smashed through the car blocking the road, he could have floored it and aimed at one of the shooters, he could have still gotten on the gas by the time the motorcyclist arrived. He should have followed the one simple evasive maneuver we teach here: Move. Move!"

So goes the classroom portion of ITI's "antiterrorist surveillance detection and evasive driving" program. Frankly, I was there not because I'm worried about abductions or attacks, but because I had heard about all the cool car maneuvers you get to practice: J-turns, high-speed chase drills, reverse pursuit exercises--my kind of good time. But listening to Smith, I began to realize that this is pretty sober stuff. Smith is an average-Joe-looking former special agent with the Air Force Office of Special Investigations; if you met him on the street, you wouldn't guess that he's one of the world's top pathologists of terrorism. When a terrorist makes a successful attack, he gets called in as an "after action" consultant: what happened, what went wrong? In his day job he teaches 5,000 students each year how to frustrate would-be assassins.

Needless to say, a huge number of the clients who come to this bare-bones airstrip/track facility tucked somewhere in Virginia (I'd tell you where, but ITI would have to kill me) are corporate execs and so-called high-wealth individuals. They live, as Smith puts it, "in cities where the gap between the haves and the have-nots is great." Smith and his partner, Jerome Hoffman, also a former Air Force OSI agent, have been running these courses since 1989; a few weeks ago ITI was officially acquired by O'Gara Hess & Eisenhardt, the world's largest car-armoring company (see box). "An armored vehicle merely buys you a little time," says CEO Bill O'Gara. "The training buys you a little more."

For several hours Smith walked us through the basics of attack recognition in a simple classroom decorated only by the national flags of ITI clients. On spotting trouble: "When you see something suspicious--a broken-down vehicle or a blocked road--stop far back from the 'kill zone' and assess. Then you've taken away the element of surprise from the bad guys." On timing: "By the time a gun comes out, an attacker has a 92% success rate," he warned. "The bad guys have figured out all your visible security systems. So what we teach is invisible security, like radar. You've got to have spotted the attacker and already be moving when the weapon comes out." On panic: "Surprise and excitement are very different chemical phenomena. Your body can handle excitement, but surprise will freeze you. Everyone has a shock line--the point at which sodium, which tightens your muscles, floods your bloodstream and locks you up."

Next up is Dave Beedle, former chief of White House motorcade operations and the senior instructor at ITI. His job is teaching students to drive on a whole new level. "We're not here to make you a better driver. We're here to get the act of driving to be less distracting, more instinctive. We want two of you: the instinctive you inside the car, and the pragmatic you outside dealing with the attack."

Beedle stresses three things: First, use your eyes. "Always be looking for an escape route--ditches, sidewalks, holes in traffic. Move your eyes, find someplace to go--you will instinctively drive the car in the direction you're looking." Second, know your tires. "Brakes don't stop a car, and the steering wheel doesn't turn it--it all happens with tire contact," says Beedle. "All vehicles talk to you the same way, from the tires, and because you can't see them, you have to feel and listen." Third point: Handle your body. "When you lock up the brakes," says Beedle, "you're locking up your arm and leg muscles too--it's the same chemical cocktail Gerry was describing. So manage your hands on the wheel, keep your heel planted on the floor so you use only toes to brake, and never lock out your arms."

With checklists in head, we filed outside and teamed up in pairs. My partner was the effervescent Ted Price, former deputy director of operations for the CIA and the recently appointed president of O'Gara's security division. We headed out to ITI's two-mile wreck of a track ("we keep it kind of torn up, since that's the type of roads you'll find in a lot of foreign countries," says Beedle) in a baby-blue 1993 Olds Delta 88. A total beater, big, fat, and war wounded. I drove first, with Beedle as passenger and Price in back yelling encouragement. My first test was to take a couple laps at a decent clip and brake when--and only when--the burly Beedle pounded on the dash with his fist. I was supposed to get a feel for the tires' footprints and how weight distribution affects the car's sway and traction. Barriers blind-spotted certain corners of the track; orange cones clogged other parts. The trick was to miss them all. I was doing fine until I carried a bit too much speed into a left-hander. Beedle pounded and I braked. I watched, aghast, as the car neatly slid toward the broadside of a yellow canvas barrier. "Look away, look away!" screamed Beedle. I forced myself to glance left, and just as predicted, the car followed my eyes. We narrowly missed the thing.

The fun had just started. Beedle then subjected me to reaction-time testing. I drove 50 mph on a straight stretch, with Beedle holding a piece of cardboard in front of my eyes. With no warning, he suddenly dropped it--and watched me react to a maze of traffic cones around a corner. Only one cone got stuck under the car. I started to feel like a hit man in a Harrison Ford movie.

Next, Beedle asked us to don helmets and protective eyewear for the...ramming exercises! I've waited my whole life to be able to bash another car on purpose--with no insurance penalties! Beedle introduced a new rule: No movement until a weapon is pulled.

For my plowing pleasure, a beat-up Crown Victoria was readied. Ahead of it were three parked cars, creating a three-sided box. I pulled up to about 20 feet away and saw Smith, who approached the driver's window. Meanwhile, Beedle slyly drew a handgun on the passenger's side. I saw the barrel and floored it (funny how even an unloaded gun will goose your heart rate), aimed my right front tire at the rear of the Escort dead ahead, and bashed into it, eyes squinted half shut. The Escort twirled away effortlessly. Hey, this stuff really works!

A day like this wouldn't be complete without surprise attacks by armed commandos. On cue I took off around the track, nervously checking my mirrors. Up ahead a young man stood on the left with a "Will work for food" sign. As I pulled up to him, I heard the thunk on the passenger's window: a big, yellow paint splat fired from the right side, where I should have been looking.

Continuing around the track, I noticed another sedan coming up behind us. It was Smith, and as he pulled up alongside I saw the blur of arm movement and slammed on the brakes ("Your car will stop much more quickly than it will accelerate," Smith had warned that morning). I watched with pleasure as the gap between us grew--until I saw his backup lights. I threw my own car into reverse, but not fast enough. Just as I thought I had outrun him, I heard another thunk. His paint ball neatly exploded on the driver's window at temple height. After a few more laps, the glass was completely smeared in yellow; we called it a day.

Back in Gotham, I was driving down a darkened side street late one night in a sprightly new Volvo V70 wagon (look, I test-drive everything). I spied a broken-down car on the next block, with shadowy figures lurking about, glancing my way. I hesitated, assessing the scene, until I saw one of them start running toward me. With nary a second's thought, I flicked the wagon to the left, over an edge of sidewalk, and down another street. I moved. Next time I'll try ramming.

ITI offers one-day ($1,500), two-day ($2,000), and three-day ($2,500) courses. Call 800-604-4484 for more information.