Ghosts of the Southern Mountains and Appalachia

Highway 19, Where Apparitions Still Ride

Highway 19, Where Apparitions Still Ride Flatwoods, West Virginia The driver of the truck tried his CB radio again. "Breaker 19, Breaker 19, for north-bounder on Highway 19." Another West Virginia trucker's voice crackled back over the CB radio. "You got a south-bounder. This is the Big Driver." "How's it lookin' over your shoulder, good buddy?" asked Craig Tolliver. "It's clean and green back to Roanoke " came the reply. This was trucker's CB lingo for the fact that there were no patrol cars, accidents, or hazards over the stretch of road Tolliver would soon be traveling. He had heard some weird stories about this area. His truck tended to hug the inside curve of the mountain road for he knew that a steep drop lay to 125 126 Ghosts of the Southern Mountains and Appalachia the left of his cab. A few miles ahead was the hill that had brought death to more than one drivertwo of them truckers like himself. It was not the road itself that presented the hazard. It was something far more mystifying. His big trailer truck began the slow climb up the hill. Why should he be so apprehensive? He had driven this road near Flatwoods, West Virginia, many a time and the trip had always been uneventful . Surely it was only chance that there had been more than one accident along here. The truck went more slowly than usual tonight. Did it too feel reluctant to reach the stretch of highway ahead? What foolishness, he thought. He was overtired, for there was always tension in driving a truck this heavily loaded, and the steel girders he was carrying weighed over twenty-two tons. No wonder the truck was slow to respond on the up grade and tended to hurtle forward as he went down the hills. Tolliver strained to see ahead. Now he was approaching the crest of the hill. As he reached it, he saw a sight so amazing he could hardly believe his eyes. Halfway down the incline, in his lane, was a wagon pulled by four horses. On the seat was a man and beside him a woman with long hair wearing a white dress. He realized with horror that there was not a way in the world he could avoid hitting that wagon. He was in low gear, and although he knew it was futile, he pressed the brake as hard as he could. As he went down the grade coming closer and closer to the wagon, his brakes began to burn. Why didn't the wagon turn into the other lane? It contin- 128 Ghosts of the Southern Mountains and Appalachia ued its slow and measured pace. He thought of trying to go around it but he knew the weight of the steel girders would send him hurtling over the embankment. He would never be able to pull back in his own lane ahead of it. He knew in another half minute the couple and their horses would all be one indistinguishable, bloody mass beneath the huge wheels of his truck. Tolliver felt a sudden wave of nausea and as if he were about to black out. In another second he would feel the impact. There was no way to avoid the collision. Then, much to his astonishment, horses, wagon , and the couple all disappeared at the very moment he was braced for the impact! The moon came out and the road was illuminated behind him. As he looked in his mirror he could see that there was nothing there. What had happened? Where had the wagon and the couple gone? He knew that he had seen them as clearly as he had ever seen anything in his entire life. It was only a short distance down the road to the truck stop where he had sometimes paused to refuel or for a cup of hot coffee. He needed that coffee tonight as he had never needed it before. When he lifted it steaming hot to his lips, his hands shook so that they spilled the coffee on the counter. "You seem pretty shaken up, fellow, what's the trouble?" said a voice next to him. He turned to look at the man who had spoken. "You a trucker?" he asked him. The man said, "No, I'm from over at Flatwoods, a few miles from here. Just thought I'd...