The Night Road

The American highway system is the largest in the world with four million miles of road. Every year it claims the lives of roughly 40,000 people. For those who don’t make the trip home, there is sometimes another road they must travel, a dark and lonely road that traverses lands unseen and leads to destinations unknown.

Carlos writes to tell me the story of an event that he witnessed late one night in 1991. Carlos drives a big rig and spends a greater part of the year on the road. His job usually takes him from the west coast, where goods are unloaded at the Port of Oakland, California, to the distribution centers that dot the Midwest.

On that fateful night in 1991, Carlos was running a load east along Interstate 80. It was late and very dark as Carlos drove along the nearly deserted highway. “I was in Wyoming, heading toward Cheyenne,” Carlos tells me.

There are stretches of roadway in Wyoming that are downright beautiful, gorgeous examples of the planet’s natural wonders. There are times, however, when those same places can send a cold chill down a man’s spine.

The Tomb of the Lurker

Stories about haunted houses usually reveal more about the stresses faced by families than they do about the world of the supernatural. Sometimes, however, the mysteries behind hauntings are revealed in full in the most unexpected ways.

Greg writes to tell me the story of the house he grew up in and the strange events that bedeviled his family. Greg’s grandparents, Clark and Mary, lived in Florida in a house that Greg’s grandfather built himself. The sturdy ranch house would go on to shelter three generations of Greg’s family.

Greg’s story begins with his newly wed grandparents. Their new home was finally finished and the happy couple were looking forward to starting a family. Now they just had to face a few minor problems.

After almost a year, Greg’s grandmother, Mary, was not yet pregnant. The families and in-laws were beginning to talk and Greg’s grandparents silently wondered what the problem could be.

Added to these problems was the fact that, despite being a warm and loving man, Greg’s grandfather, Clark, enjoyed his drink. “He wasn’t the kind to drink all the time,” Greg tells me, “but when he drank, he got mean.”

Return of the Midnighters

For over thirty years, Jerry worked as a police officer in Pittsburgh. In his time on the force, Jerry had seen some bad things, some worse things, and some downright evil things. Cleaning up when people got mad or got crazy was part of the job, but there were other things that Jerry saw, things that most people never see, things that prowl the night, things that refuse to die.

I interviewed Jerry several times in 2002. The following incident is just one of the many stories Jerry shared in hours of audio recordings. I have transcribed them just as they were told to me by Jerry.

“This happened in the early 70s, maybe late 60s. Frank, that’s my partner, Frank and me, we was cruising downtown checking up on the stores, mostly just empty buildings and no people down there. It was late, probably past midnight, I’m thinking. We turn onto the highway to shoot over to the North Side and we see this bright light, like a bright flash, up ahead of us.

“So, I’m thinking there’s an accident or something and I say to Frank, ‘Let’s go,’ and Frank gives me this look like, Here we go again. Now, at this point, there’s no reason to think there’s anything weird going on, but Frank and me, we know what it’s like out there at night, so we gotta be ready for anything. Of course, we weren’t ready for this thing.

The Bridge of Lost Souls

In fairy tales and nursery rhymes, only trolls live under bridges; in the real world, you often find people down on their luck. But there’s a bridge somewhere in Los Angeles inhabited by strange creatures neither living nor dead, creatures that almost claimed the life of two lost friends.

Derek writes to tell me the story of what happened to him and his friend, Ian, one August night. Derek and Ian both grew up in Los Angeles, but now Derek was attending college on the east coast. At the end of summer break, Ian offered to drive Derek to the airport.

Getting to the airport is a hassle no matter where you live, but especially so in Los Angeles’s tangle of freeways. Compounding the problem was the fact that road construction season was in full swing. Ian and Derek, reminiscing over the summer and making plans for winter break, were not paying as close attention to the road as they should have.