Halloween

THE HAUNTED HUNT

It was a Friday during late October circa 1985, I wanted to hunt but I had to finish work first. My boss at my first job needed some tasks done before the weekend and I had promised a homeowner on my side job that he’d be able to have his party on his new deck by Saturday. So, I admit I was a little more tired than normal by the time my truck was loaded and I was headed through the inky dark towards “my” mountain.

My truck at the time was my pride and joy. It was a souped up and jacked up Dodge Power wagon. All time four wheel drive, heavy duty everything, a four barrel 650 double pumper on a high rise carburetor, dual headers on class pack pipes coming off a 360 block…no radio, wouldn’t have been able to hear it any way. I was all about stripped down power and very little frills. I was lucky to have seats and heat. In order to add a little homey touch to my tone of steel on muscle, I touched up the interior with furs I had trapped. Raccoon and fox on the seats and there were some feathers around for a light touch.

I did keep a “boom” box on the seat for times when I just couldn’t get enough noise. As my truck tore up asphalt while humming down Route 80, I was listening to “Midnight Rider” by the Allman brothers when my headlights caught a beautiful girl hitch hiking down the side of the highway. Now in those days, west of the Susquehanna river and maybe even a little east of the Susquehanna, Route 80 was a little different than it is now. The road looks the same and now it isn’t a good place to hitch hike because you’ll get run over or picked up by a creep. Then you would end up standing on the road all night, there wasn’t much traffic on 80 between the big rivers of Northern Pennsylvania, I’d gone hours before without seeing anything but a bobcat.

Getting that truck to a stop from highway speed wasn’t anything that ever happened quickly, so I was surprised at how fast the hitchhiker got to my door when I pulled over. She opened the door and without saying a word, jumped into the cab, with no any introductions or questions about where I was going. I was struck by how pale she was but rationalized it off that it was just cool outside. After a short pause I said, “Hello” and she merely responded, “You have something dead in your truck.” She had a strange accent but I just thought, “There are a lot of different accents in Pennsylvania…maybe she’s Amish.” I nervously explained my trapping and that she was merely surrounded by furs. I asked where she was going and she gave me a non-descript, empty exit name. I knew there was nothing at that exit but woods. So I offered to take her to the town near there thinking perhaps she was being polite. She declined and maintained that she wanted off in the woods. I explained that it was no problem to take her somewhere because I wasn’t on any schedule for the rest of the weekend. She didn’t explain why but insisted that she wanted to be let off right off the exit. So, we drove down the highway towards her exit which was more than an hour away.

As we rode, we talked little. I think she told me her name but I don’t remember it. (Admittedly, it was a hard truck to hold a conversation in) I do remember that it got awfully cold in my truck even though my one luxury, the heater, was working overtime. I brushed that off as cold air on uninsulated steel. When I approached the off ramp for her exit, I offered one more time to take her directly to whatever final destination she was headed for. She simply told me that I couldn’t do that. As I turned onto the cross road and pulled under the overpass she told me to stop. She said, “Goodbye”, opened the door, stepped out…and disappeared. I looked for her to see if she fell but she was gone. I kept on driving through the night to the place where I was due to set up camp for the night and as I did, I watched my rearview mirror a little more often than usual. At my destination I built a big fire which I sat awake by most of the night clutching my shotgun a little tighter each time I thought over the “conversation” I had in the truck that night. A conversation that was more informative, after the fact than during the time it occurred with the pale, cold girl saying, “There’s something dead in my truck, the insistence to be dropped off in a lonely spot and the comment that I couldn’t go where she was going.” The truck was able to warm up after she left and then there was the whole disappearing thing…that trick I haven’t been able to figure out yet.

I didn’t get much hunting done that weekend and was back at work early on the following Monday morning and was glad to be there. Since that night, I’ve ridden down Route 80, past her exit and that stretch of road hundreds of times. I watch for the pale girl every time but have never seen her again. I’m hoping she’s content and happy and that her final destination was a good place.

See you along the stream.

THE HOOKER MAN

In the town I went to high school in, there is the legend of the “Hooker Man”. The Hooker Man is of such myth and tangible evidence that it was even visited and investigated by the popular at the time, mystery investigation show “In Search Of” which was hosted by Leonard Nimoy. The show got the Hooker Man on camera and had scientists test the area. What they concluded was that maybe the phenomenon was caused by swamp gas but the cause of the sightings was officially inconclusive. There are similar phenomenon around the country, recently, I read about the same type of mysterious activity in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

What the Hooker Man appeared to be was a swaying light on remote railroad tracks. The light would come from far and come nearer, usually backing away before it got “too” close. The lights appeared in other places along the track but it was most consistent on one particular area of the tracks. The Hooker Man lights were usually white and could be seen on almost any night if you were willing to wait. Some nights were better than others, where it would range from just a flash of light a few times to a steady glow that would sway down the tracks.

The legend was that the Hooker Man was a railroad employee that lost his arm working on the tracks during a blizzard. Alone on the tracks he bled to death and now spends eternity looking for his other arm. The light represented and appeared to be from a lantern that was characteristically carried by railroad men who worked the railroad switches back in the day.

Despite the ominous story, familiarity breeds contempt. After many a weekend night sitting on tailgates watching the Hooker Man, we lost all fear of him, even to the point of trying to catch him and chasing him. It started with migrating down the tracks to perform various tests to show the light was man made or to explain it. These attempts were as fruitless as the T.V. show’s attempts were. Then we began to play with the light in an ever bolder and bolder manner. Our newly aggressive behavior was greeted by patience from the light. It would retreat from us and then disappear if we got too close. We got even more comfortable and watched the lights without wonder and treated them as routine fireworks. Eventually, all of that changed.

The first sign that something may have changed was when I referred a couple friends to use a quiet spot miles down the track that I had been using for privacy for years. I never had an encounter with the Hooker Man there and made that clear when I shared the location with a friend. The day after he used it, he said that in the middle of the night the Hooker Man showed up glowing red right over the sunroof of his truck! He was so freaked out that he drove out of there immediately. I doubted his story.

The legend included a part about the light changing colors and even what the different colored lights meant. We had seen the light change colors before but never to red, even though red was a reported color that it could turn. The legend was that the Hooker Man’s mood was reflected by the color of his light. White meant he was in a good mood. The color yellow was a warning to leave him alone and red meant death.

Sometime later, we went to the traditional viewing spot to watch for the Hooker Man. It was a triple date and one of the girls was a new girl that just moved to the area, named Liza. Liza was a 95 pound blonde and she was dating my friend who had the light show up, earlier, over his sunroof. Kyle was a 285 pound college football player. We thought it would be a fun initiation to take the girls down to the tracks to see the light after the movies. I was driving and we were all in my famously indestructible and reliable Chevy Impala. So we pulled in. It was autumn and a bit brisk outside so we decided to stay in the car; whereas usually we sat on a tailgate and waited. As we waited, another buddy, who was the official story teller began to fill Liza in on the details of the Hooker Man that I have already made you familiar with. Just as he explained that the light came in different colors and that white was peaceful. The light came on hundreds of yards up the tracks and we all ooo’d and awed. The light stayed on rather than blinking out as it so often did and we told Liza how lucky she was to be there on a “good” night. Fred continued that sometimes the light turned yellow. On cue, the light turned yellow and continued steadily swaying towards us. No one ooo’d or awed; now all was quiet until someone whispered, “Look at that.” Fred paused and kind of gulped but outwardly kept his cool and continued his story. However, about then he was interrupted by Liza’s boyfriend who suggested that I flick on the lights. Usually, flicking on the lights would drive the Hooker Man away if he got close enough to make anyone uncomfortable. I complied but the light did not recede and continued towards us. Fred hesitantly continued, “Sometimes….the light…turns …red and that means…death.” Yes, again as if on cue, the light turned red, began to accelerate towards us and the light grew as it came. I was flicking the lights on and off as fast as I could then. Liza was trying to crawl out of the back window screaming like a 595 lb screamer and her boyfriend said, “Bill, get out of here, I don’t think I can hold her much longer!” I didn’t argue and hit the keys…the car didn’t start. Everyone was screaming. I turned the key several times and when the Impala fired up, we were bathed in bright red light and the source was over the hood! I hit reverse and peeled out of there luckily before Liza escaped the safety of the car. I didn’t go back to the spot for many years, mostly because I moved away shortly after the event. However, less than ten years later I found myself back at the tracks. This time I brought my girlfriend at the time and now wife, Dana. The tracks had been gated so that a car could not fit in to look down the tracks. So, I parked as best I could and promised my brave girlfriend that we’d be okay to see them on foot. Within minutes, the police arrived and told us to move on. I explained that we meant no harm and that we were only there to see the Hooker Man and the tracks and surrounding land was public but they informed me that no one was allowed to loiter in that remote spot anymore. On a later trip we stopped and within minutes were met by police again and told to move on. I was told by a local that is the norm there now; no one can stay there very long without being rousted. No one knows why for sure…maybe they closed it after a group of six teens disappeared in a Chevy Impala…

See you along the stream