trucker ghost stories

Posted & filed under Carrier Connection, England Carrier Services.

Deserted roads. Forgotten towns. Isolation at strange hours. These are all a regular part of the job description for truckers. Every year, we tell favorite trucker ghost stories told by an actual trucker. The following story has been retold for your awful pleasure.

Happy Halloween!

 

The Predator

I had an experience that I still can’t explain.

I had accepted a load delivering machines. After my truck was giving me a fit, I had to delay my departure until 11 o’clock at night through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

I knew it was going to be a long, hard ride in the dark. There are no streetlights, no other cars—It would just be my headlights for miles.

A few hours in, I began to feel unsettled. There wasn’t anything wrong, per se, but it was just so… quiet. I had never felt so isolated as I did that night.

Right as I was passing through the most remote stretch of the ride, my entire dashboard lit up like spaceship panel in a sci-fi movie. My truck sputtered to a stop. My heart dropped. I turned the key over and over, hoping for a different result each time. No luck.

I turned the truck off to conserve battery, leaving me to the endless expanse of the night. I’ll admit, I was terrified, but I still had a load to deliver. I began calling mechanics in the nearest towns to come and help me.

As I exhausted a list of phone numbers, something in the dark caught my eye. The flashing hazards cast a dull, intermittent glow over the area surrounding the truck. In the moment the lights flashed,

I thought I saw a shape move just outside the reach of the lights.

I tried to put the thought out of my mind. I was already paranoid in the first place, but being stranded in such a lonely space was certainly causing my mind to play tricks on me. I kept making calls.

Finally, I found a mechanic that agreed to come and help me. They estimated they would arrive in two to three hours. I just had to wait.

As I listened to the clicking of the hazard lights, I stared out the window. I saw movement again, turning my stomach. It was brief, but this time, I was sure that something was moving.

Just as I reached to flash my brights, my phone rang, sending a jolt through me. It was the mechanic again. He wanted me to get out of my truck, open the hood, and check on a few things for him. I told him I couldn’t. He seemed irritated but told me he would be there shortly.

I took a deep breath, feeling better that someone else would be here soon. That’s when I saw the definitive outline of something in front of my truck. With sick apprehension, I flashed my brights.

Before me stood three wolves snacking on roadkill, their reflective eyes catching my beams. Though the initial image spooked me, I felt some relief. Wolves couldn’t do anything to me in my truck.

I honked my horn a few times. The wolves appeared apathetic, continuing to eat. After a few attempts, I gave up and shut my lights off. It was off-putting to imagine them still standing there in the dark, but I felt relatively safe.

Just as my nerves were beginning to settle, a woman’s shriek reverberated from just behind the truck, sending me careening from my chair.

True terror engulfed me.

A bang resounded through my truck. Whatever had screamed was striking the truck’s side, causing several tons of metal to shake back and forth like a rattle.

I turned on every light that I could, even shifting into reverse so that the rear lights would activate. I frantically turned my head from mirror to mirror, looking for any sign of life.

I turned forward again to look through the windshield. The wolves were gone. It was quiet.

Then, a streak of black crossed the road, moving at impossible speed. I heard thrashing off the shoulder, sticks breaking and brush being uprooted. I heard the yipping of wolves. I gripped the steering wheel like my life depended on it. A woman’s scream repeatedly tore through the quiet.

Finally, I saw headlights reflect off my rearview mirrors. As the mechanic pulled in front of me, the noises stopped.

He opened the door, and just as he did, that same shriek echoed through the dark. He slammed his door shut and called me.

“What is that?” he asked. I could hear the panic in his voice.

I told him I had no idea and asked him to call the police. He did. We waited with bated breath through the screams and thrashing.

Eventually, two officers arrived at the scene with floodlights. The mechanic got to work on my truck, all the while the wailing continued, albeit a farther distance from the road. The officers were bewildered by the sound. They seemed more afraid than we were.

The mechanic repaired my truck. Each of us sped away from the scene. I was able to make it safely to a hotel that night.

The next morning, I stepped out to my truck, unsure of what I would find.

Right where I remember hearing a colossal bang, there was a basketball sized hole through the fiberglass. The hole stood about seven feet off the ground.

To this day, I have no idea what attacked my truck. It was too fast to be a bear. It was too tall to be anything else.

I remember watching a nature documentary once that had claimed that predators only flee if they feel another predator is close-by.

I still shudder at the thought.

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