Haunted cars ......from the grave to life.

I figure my computer must be possessed as I was typing up a long story to post here when I was unexpectedly redirected to another page and lost about 1/2 hour worth of input!

More of a good karma story than a ghost story, but here goes.

30 years ago, I had a '64 Rambler Classic 550. Stout car that I eventually doomed to the scrapyard because of some youthful stupidity. I always had a muscle car, but that Rambler was a mainstay of transportation and, of course, was the ultimate date car thanks to that folding front seat. Fathers would worry when you showed up in a Firebird, or a 'Cuda, but they brought out the shotgun when you showed up in the Rambler.

I lived in the country and I had a friend who lived in the city, about an hour away. When I visited my friend, I noticed a beautiful Ragoon Red '64 Rambler Ambassador 2 door parked about 1/2 a block away from his house. This, of course trumped my plain white 4 door ride and I made a mental note to contact the owner if the car might be for sale. Of course, this never happened, time passed, friends of my youth made way for marriage, family and career.

Fast forward till about 3 years ago. Christmas dinner and my brother in law is telling me about an old Rambler owned by his wife's grandmother. Says the old girl is ready to move out of the house, (she was over 90 at the time), and the car which sat in the garage for the last 20 years has to go. I have some contacts who are quite into the AMC world and I think I may be able to help. He says it's a 2 door and he has pictures. Several weeks later, I remind him to send the pictures and when they arrive, I'm looking at a beautiful '64 Rambler Ambassador 2 dr HT, red with a cream top and a nearly perfect interior. I offer to buy it from the pictures figuring I can flip it and make some coin. As the story progresses, it's clear that there is some family attachment to this car. Granny was hell on wheels in this car and she could not bear to part with it after she quit driving. After I passed scrutiny that I was serious about buying it and would respect the car, I was granted an opportunity to view the car. Imagine my surprise when we drove up to the address where I spotted the Rambler of my dreams 30 years earlier. Sure enough, there it was, tucked away in the garage. The car had been started periodically, but the timing chain gears had crumbled 10 years earlier, bending every valve in the 327 4bbl engine. Tires were dry rotted, but held air when pumped up. Hosed off the dust and the paint still shone. My sister in law was there with her grandmother and we had a pleasant chat about the car. I presented an offer and was informed that the family would consider it and get back to me. A few weeks later, I got the call, the car was mine.

When I went to pick the car up, the old girl could not even look at me. My sister in law finally took her Granny for a ride while I removed the car from her garage. She was crying as they drove away.

It took some time to get the engine rebuilt. Also had to locate another gas tank as the original had rotted out and I ended up being transferred, so I had to farm the entire project out for completion. As completion neared, I offered my sister in law that I would take her grandmother out for a ride as soon as it was ready. She passed the offer on and was shocked at her grandmother's reaction. She did not want to see the car again, she was done with it. 3 months later, she passed away. When the car was completed, I gave the keys to my sister in law and she spent an hour driving her Granny's old car. She came back all grins and admitted that it was the first time she had been allowed in the front seat of that car.

Needless to say, I don't have the heart to flip it now and I've come to really appreciate this car. The family seems happy about my ownership and even passed along the original bill of sale found when they cleaned up their grandmother's estate. My brother in law passed away about a year ago from ALS, so I've lost my connection to this family. I've offered them first chance at the car should I ever decide to sell it, but they are happy to let it go now.

I've always felt my cars have some sort of soul and I've always found it hard to pass them on. This Rambler is no exception. When I got it back from the garage, my first trip was a 500 km trip to my new home. I settled into the seat, turned on the AM radio which was still operational. Some presets were empty as the AM broadcasters have slowly been falling to economic reality, but there was one still on the air and they had adopted an oldies format. For an afternoon, I was once again a teenager.

 

The 'Cursed Air Cleaner' instantly reminded me of a 'pre-Christine' 'James Deans's Little Bastard-like' 'sequence of events' that we all referred to as:

ONE CURSED 307

Long ago far away I worked part time in a yard. The bosses kid blew up the 350 in his Camaro and asked his dad for another 350. Nope too valuable. You can have that 307 if you can get it out of that mangled mess against the fence.
Backed the truck up. Looks bad. Jeez what a mess. There's a motor in there? Pulled/peeled/cut down to it. Think it'll run? Rigged up gas jug, battery, jumpered ignition. Primed carb, jumped solenoid.
Holy Shit throttle sticks wide open slinging out belts, rocks, mud, grass, screaming out through the broken exhaust manifolds. Kill it! Wow, that thing sounds STRONG....

Anyway stuffed it in the Camaro, the kid tears out of the yard on a test run, fishtalin' down the gravel driveway. Comes back all smiles. Man that 307 pulls hardern' the old 350. WTF?
So, later on he's out tearin' it up one night with a bunch of buddies screwing around in a county park. He stabs the throttle, it sticks, the 307 screams for the moon and the lincoln locker launches the Camaro head on into a tree. Camaro totaled, all three end up with busted arms, legs, ribs, missing teeth, and bosses kid comes home from the hospital with his broken jaw wired shut.

Later another broke buddy blows up his Malibu and comes out to the yard beggin' for a cheap engine. Boss says, I'll give you a deal on a 307. It's in my kids wrecked Camaro against the fence.
Backed the truck up. Wow perfect hard hit dead center. Think the crank's OK? Pulled the core support ahead. Unpeeled the radiator. Think it'll run? Rigged up gas jug, battery, jumpered ignition. Primed carb, jumped solenoid.
It instantly jumps to life, screaming out through the headers. Kill it! Wow, that thing sounds STRONG....

Buddy stuffs it in his Malibu. Takes it out for a test run, smokin' the tires out the driveway. Comes back all smiles. Man that 307 pulls hardern' the old 350. WTF?
So, he's out one night braggin' on how fast this 307 is and that it'll whip a 350's ass. No way. Let's run em. So they head to the outskirts of town. He launches the Malibu, bangin' gears, the 307 screamin' it's evil little heart out stretching for the end when all of sudden it mysteriously veers for the ditch, hits a field approach, and tumbles end over end.

Later on we all stare at the mangled mess. Think it'll run? Unpeel the carnage. Rigged up gas jug, battery, jumpered ignition. Primed carb, jumped solenoid.
It instantly jumps to life, screaming out through the torn up headers. Kill it! Wow, that thing STILL sounds STRONG....WTF?????
What're you gonna put that in? Moment of silence, everyone mentally tallying the score. Finally my buddy mutters. I don't know, but what I do know it that that's

ONE CURSED 307.

 

More stories please!

 

well there is one my grandpa told me about when e was a kid, him and his family were moving from missouri going to eugene oregon, the road they were traveling on was...Route 66. well it was dark out when my grandpa's dad was driving,kids asleep.etc. anyway he said that his dad kept seeing this bright light shining down on him so finally he pulls over to see what it was, nothing there. later on down the road there is a head on accident in an inter-section, If my great grandpa would not have stopped, they all could have been in the accident and died......search up:"ghost light"

 

Scary story!!
An old farmer walks up to see a movie with "Fred" his pet rooster on his sholder.
The Ticket lady says "Sir, we cannot have animals in the theater, is that a seeing eye chicken?"
The Farmer: "Why no! thats Fred he goes everywhere with me".
Ticket Lady: "Sorry Sir, no admitance".
The farmer walks around the corner and puts Fred down the front of his overalls and goes in to see the movie anyway.
Once the lights dim and the big screen lights up,, the farmer unzips his pants to allow Fred to see too.
The 2 old ladies next to him take notice.
The one next to him says "Mildred, My heavens, he's got his thing out of his pants".
Then Mildred whispers "ignore him Hun, at our age we've already seen 'em all".
The one next to him says " I don't think so, this one keeps eating my popcorn".

 

More? OK.

My first car was a dechromed black and white '56 Belair. One moonless late Nov. night I was flyin' down a lonely country 2 lane blacktop in the '56 when all of a sudden a hitchhiker appeared walking down my lane and I had to swerve to avoid mowing him down. After first cussin' him out for walking down my lane I thought, jeez, it's about 5 degrees with a -20 windchill, that poor bastard's gonna freeze to death out here. All he was wearing was jeans, boots, and a jean jacket. I jumped on the binders, turned around and went back to pick him up.

So I get back the 1/4 mile or so and start looking for him and can't find him. You gotta realize that in this part of the treeless northern plains it is flat as a table top and after the farmers plow all the fields and burn off the road ditches and before it snows there is absolutely no cover, no place to hide. I stopped the '56, and swung the headlights in a full 360. Nothin'. It's pitch black. Killed the '56. Got out. Hollered. All I heard back was the wind howlin' out of the North'.
About this time the hair on the back of my neck started standing straight up. I fired up the '56 and got the hell out of there. I told my buddies back in town about this and my dechromed black and white '56 was consequently christened 'Black Death'.

Had I really seen this? I went past that same spot many times after and never saw him again. I don't know, but to this day I am haunted by the memory of his face as he turned back to look at me as I flew past him.

 

My daily driver hates my wife. Its a cream puff, and runs like a dream . But when she sits next to me, it clatters and runs like all out ass. Wife and kids in the car no troubles, just her and me runs like ass.

 

Mus be a Dodge thing

 

Several years ago I had a buddy that rented an old 2 story farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere that we used to go party at. I get off work and drive out to the house thinking that something might be going on. Get there and no one's home but it's late and I crash in the upstairs bedroom. This was about mid July and very hot so I had the windows open but it had a sheet over it. I got to sleep and in the middle of the night I just wake up instantly and am staring at the sheet over the window, as im staring at it the sheet starts bulging from something coming in from the outside. I jump up and stomp my foot and yell HEY at the top of my voice. The bulge in the sheet instantly pulls itself back and something scuttles quick as shit up the roof right over my head. I grab his 22 rifle and run outside but there isnt anything. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night to say the least.

 

you mean like my Aspen that no matter what I did wouldn't run worth a crap? sold it to a guy at the yard and as soon as he started it ran great. I guess it didn't like me. We did everything you could image to make that dam thing run right.

 

more stories! I love these

 

Back in 1975 I was visting a friend.He told me about how their house was haunted and all the time strange things would occure. He described drinking glasses and dishes flying around the kitchen at all hours of the day and weird sounds.It was so bad he said they didn't get up when they heard the sounds.
That one day I was in his room and he left to ask his mother if he could come over to my house. As he was gone I was looking at all the do-dads in the room. I focused on a bird that was attached to the ceiling by a long spring (in the corner).
It was the kind that you get at the old Spencer's in the local mall. As I pulled it down tight I strumed the spring and it made an "A" note or the sound of when you strum the A string.
In the opposite corner the Acoustic Guitar made the same sound and at the same sound level.
I quickly left the room to see where my friend was,,it spooked me and I knew he was telling the truth.

 

weird!

 

I have another story about a (dead) goldfish. I may let my wife type it as I'm slow and she can go like a sewing machine. The weirdest animal "story" I've ever experienced and it's 100% percent true.

 

Not really a haunted car story, but it did happen in a car and it is sort of weird. I gave my dad his last ride in a car. I had to borrow mom's pt cruiser as my car sits too low. I had fueled up the night before and turned off the cd player because the music was not to my liking. Well the next morning I was driving over to the nursing home to pick up dad for an appointment up in springfield. All of a sudden it felt way too quiet. The silence was heavy and oppressive so I turned on the radio and switched to FM and the first thing I hear was the first notes of Eric Clapton's "My Father's Eyes."

 

This thread is just plain amazing.
Keep 'em coming.

 

My mother inlaws car is haunted .Everytimethe car rolls up to my house.Some witch or ghoul gets out and starts heading for the front door.I ask politely for her to take her mask off.She replies she isn't wearing one,I told her Nobody's that ugly

 

Lmao!

 

Well i've got a couple... First the car related one...

The Willys pickup

First let me say that i'm a huge fan of Willys Jeeps. They've never let me down and of all cars i've owned in my life, nothing has "talked" more to me than a Willys Jeep.

The first day I had my 4 wheel drive '62 Willys pickup (which I proudly still own), I was rebuilding the carb. It hadn't ran since '90 and I was bound and determined to get it going the first day I had it. After an hour of meticulously rebuilding the old Carter YF I finally got to bolt it on. I've got both nuts sitting on the Super Hurricane's flat head, and by this time it was well after midnight and I was working with a small mag light in my mouth. Well I thread on one and get it finger tight, I reach up to grab the other and it falls off the cylinder head and into the dirt. SHIT! So I get under the truck and start fumbling around, trying not to disturb the dirt/rocks too much so I don't cover it up and I just can't find it. I search for like 15 minutes straight and i'm pissed that I was so foolish as to drop that nut. I relinquish myself to my dads huge bins of rusty and greasy spare nuts and bolts that he's collected over the years. Mind you this is like a common thread 9/16" nut. NOTHING SPECIAL. Well I can't find ANYTHING that'll work and look around for another 20 minutes. I decided to go out and look under the truck again, but before I do I check out the carb to make sure I had assembled it right and just to get my mind off of that stupid missing nut.

I take a look and find the other nut is on the stud and is more than finger tight.

What creeped me out was while I was working on the truck I had kind of a creepy feeling and I could see shadows moving out of the corners of my eyes. I just told myself it was because I had a damn flash light in my mouth so I wouldn't be so creeped out. I told the story to my dad and he thinks I was just tired... but he halfway believes me. I know for a fact that I saw that nut fall off the cylinder head, and that I only had one tightened down. Nobody was at the ranch when I was working on the truck that night either.

From that point on I actually had a good feeling about this truck like it was trying to help me out. This truck was pretty much abused as a hunting truck for most of it's life and it's body is full of scars. Since owning it, anything this truck needs IT GETS. I don't care what it costs or if the part is hard to find. I feel like i've rescued the truck and it's returning the favor by being the most reliable truck i've ever owned.

Speaking of reliability...

My dad and I were out checking one of our ranches and I noticed the truck started to sputter when I tried to go faster than 5 miles per hour. I pull over to check the cheap electric fuel pump the last owner put on, and sure as hell it's not vibrating or pumping any more. I'm thinking to myself "well here we go, the ol' truck FINALLY broke down"... I turn the key just for the hell of it and the truck fires right up and idles with out the fuel pump working. We basically idle 10 miles back to my folks place and the truck never missed a beat. We just couldn't go faster than 5 miles per hour, if that.

I'm sure there's some logical reason behind why this old truck would run 10 miles with no fuel pump... and if you know it, don't tell me. I'd like to think the truck was taking care of my ass yet again.






The ghost at my parents ranch.

My parents ranch is located in Hutto, TX, right up the road from mine and my wife's house. I've had lived there since I was 6 years old and have only had a few wierd experiences. The one with the most clarity though, is this one:

I had been working on one of my cars and needed my dads help with something. I knew he was out by the barn so I call out to him. I see him walking towards some roundbails we had about 200 feet from the barn. He's dressed kinda funky though. He's got old fashioned pants on and has tall riding boots with pull holes at the top, and his pants are tucked into them. He's also wearing some really old funky looking shirt. Kinda plaid or flannel looking I guess. His hat is strange too... really old fashioned styled. not a 10 gallon hat or anything crazy, just a wierd shape. Higher in the back and sloped down towards the front like you see in old wester movies. The roundbails are not surrounded by anything but clear open field. I stand there and wait for about a minute just staring at the bails. I figured my dad was taking a leak or something. After a minute I get concerned that he had hurt himself or stroked out or something, so I walk up to the bails never losing sight with them. I walk between them (there was only about 12 of them in 2 rows of 6) and I don't see him. This time i'm really freaked out because I would've seen him walking away from the bails as I was staring at them the whole time.

I hear our old Ford 8N tractor fire up from completely across the ranch and my dad is riding on it towards me. I'm really freaked out by now and ask him what he was doing by the round bails... he said he hadn't been by them all day. I got some chills and told him what I saw. This time he believed me. He said he saw something of the same description, just less clear and it was at 4 am when he was leaving for work. He just thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but it did freak him out a little bit.

This experience happened when they were building State Highway 130, the new toll road a few years ago. The toll road clipped part of my parents land off and to make a drainage ditch, they tore out the only grove of trees we had on the whole ranch. It genuinely pissed me off because that's where we played as kids and was the only shade on the whole place. There was a turn of the century homemade marker in those trees with some initials carved in the concrete. We never did find out what those initials were, but when the construction crew was tearing out the trees they had that marker hanging by a chain and were about to toss it. I told the guy to stop and grabbed the Willys Jeep I had at the time... a '49 CJ2A. I drug it back to our property line and propped it up like it was before. My dad said he saw the cowboy once more right before they finished the toll road, and we both haven't seen him since. We still talk about it though.

It's not a real creepy thing though. We both saw him as he was walking away from us towards the toll road. The thing that was wierd was how crystal clear he appeared to me. I could see every detail of the clothes he was wearing and coincidentally thought he was my dad. I think that possible the construction of SH130 disturbed something that shouldn't have been disturbed. Maybe it was something to do with that marker or something. When our horse, Winston passed away, we buried him in the back field right next to the marker. Maybe the cowboy will appreciate him.



And aside from all that, my car is just fuckin' scary:







I affectionately call it the date rape special. When the car was new it belonged to a young military cadet who was going to school at Tarleton State University in North Texas. The car was driven until '68 when it was parked out in the middle of a field, out in the middle of nowhere. Some of the things I found in it creeped me out though. Ripped pantyhose, what looks like blood stained small pink highheels of 50's or early 60's fashion, bottle of booze, some cocktail glasses and little pink cocktail novelties on under the seat. Part of a ripped dress was found stuffed under the seat too. It's probably just my imagination... but just looking at the car and how flashy it must've been when it was new, in it's two tone Parade Red body with Parchment White fins and hardtop... I could see some young guy luring chicks into with a bottle of booze.

My wife is creeped out by the car.

Hope you enjoyed,

-Chris

 

As the Brits would say;

SPOT ON!! lol

 

About 5 years ago. My son "won" a goldfish at a game he played at a school festival. We brought it home and had it in a regular everyday fishbowl. The next Saturday night we went to bed and when we woke up on Sunday morning the fish was gone. I walked around the bar and there was the fish, dried up, half silver colored and stiff and not moving.
I picked him up and laid him on some papers on the countertop. Afterall, it was dead and dried up and not moving so I gave up on him.
I made breakfast and we all chatted and ate. So by now he had been out of the water at least an hour I knew of and maybe even thru part of the night. When we went outside I grabbed fishy and placed him chest high in the brick joint to give to the cat later. I didn't want one of us stepping on him is why I placed him there.
As we were talking and having coffee out on the porch I noticed the fish wiggled his tail fin. I told the wife "Hey! he moved!".
So I took him and ran lukewarm water over him and through his gills. He still didn't move but I kept holding him there under the water. After 5 minutes he became soft and his eyes stayed wet looking instead of sunken. More running water and he wiggled,,so I put him back in the fish bowl and he would wiggle and turn upside down. I took him back out and held him under more running water.
The next time he went into the bowl he stayed upright and rested on the bottom pumping his gills.
After an hour he was swimming and eating and alert to us. For the whole rest of the day he appeared and behaved normally. The next morning he was discovered ,,,really dead ,silver and on the bottom,,then the kitty ate him. True story.

 

Nothing spooky about what you describe, and easily replicated. It is called "sympathetic vibration." You can replicate this with any two stringed instruments that are close together and in tune with each other.

 

i like the zombie fish story. I think i have it figured out...

They'll dry up out of the water but their respiration requires oxygen just like ours. They can "breathe" oxygen from the air, just not very well. Eventually they'll die from lack of oxygen if left out, but i think that's because their gills dry out so much that they don't work.

 

Kind of along this same train of thought. If cars are made of organic materials (steel, wood, etc.) and people are made of organic materials and eventually all of this material goes back into the earth, then perhaps it's possible that your car could contain some former people material in it. A little bit of a stretch, but interesting to think about. I'd also say that all cars have their own distinct personalities and chemistry with different people. I talk to my Mercury quite a bit - my friends think I'm crazy, but it makes perfect sense to me. I do agree that some cars are bad luck as I had an off OT daily driver that was broken into twice, had the front end knocked off of by a lady in a Lincoln, backed into by some necking teenagers, and eventually backed over by a semi.

 

WRONG!! I will not be mocked,this is not that simple!!
38FordPkup,
What I left out is that there was a naked Ghost standing there running his erect member over the strings. I was just too decent to type that.

Zombiesarebad,
What I didn't mention is that that was Holy Water I put him back in.
I'm glad you guys aren't in charge of this whole "Good Vs Evil" shit,,we'd be up to our ass in ZombieFish and Ghosts with Woodies.

 

that gave me the chills!

 

You are possibly holding back evidence there.

the genetic fingerprint thing has come a long way in forensic medicine. Maybe you found a missing link there that could convict somebody of rape, murder or worse.

 

Nothing to do with cars, but true...

My oldest daughter and her husband built a nerw home on a subdivided block of land at Berowra, just north of Sydney several years ago. There was a creepy, derelict old house on the block behind them, had been abandoned for years. Someone bought it for land value only and brought in the wreckers to clear the old house off the block so they could build a new one. The day the old house went down, 'something' moved into my daughter's new home.

At first Becky thought it was just her imagination, but then the kids started talking to a stranger when there was nobody else around. Then one day Craig went to work early and left the heater on in the loungeroom to warm the house up. Bec went into the lungeroom and 'something' was quite clearly crouched in front of the heater! She also 'bumped' into something in the hallway at night, and heard strange noises in the dark.

They sold the house, and stored their furniture in a friend's garage while wating to move into their new home in a different suburb. The friend rang one day, almost hysterical, she'd gong into the garage for some reason, and the 'something' almost threw her out on her ear! It had moved with the furniture, and it moved into the new house too.

They've since moved interstate, and are here in Queensland. I haven't asked if it came with them, it's just one of those things you don't bring up in conversation.

Cheers, Glen.

 

This is a textbook alien abduction missing time experience. Any more things or feelings or stuff related to it?

 

I was thumbin' back from Montgomery with my guitar on my back
When a stranger pulled up beside me in an antique Cadillac
Well, he was dressed like 1950, half drunk and hallow eyed
Its a long walk to Nashville, son, would you like a ride?

He sat down in the front seat, and turned on the radio
and them sad old songs comin' outta them speakers was solid country gold!
Then I noticed the stranger was ghost white pale when he asked me for a light
And knew there was somethin' strange about this ride

-- Excerpt from "The Ride"
by David Allan Coe