The Hitchhiker
For a good haunting happening, nothing can surpass the ghostly hitchhiker. The following story is as fine a one as I have ever come upon. It happened to two residents of Lambertville, New Jersey - long time good friends.

Anne and Josephine, as I shall call them first experienced the startling phenomenon in late January of '72. They had been to a rousing good party at a friend's house in Dublin, a village on the outskirts of Doylestown in Bucks County, and were on their way home late at night.

Anne was busy talking and reminiscing about the good time they'd just had when, right after swinging off a side road onto Route 313, she caught sight of a figure in the beam of her car headlights. It was a young man with blond hair, dressed in brown slacks and a brown jacket with a pack on his back.

As the car caught up with him, the youth turned. His shining golden hair was eye-catching in the darkness and even his eyes, as they peered into the glare, seemed bright and piercing to the women's surprised gaze.

"What in the world would anyone be out hitchhiking at this late -" started Josephine, her own blue eyes wide with amazement.

"Who knows?" answered Anne with a shrug as she swerved the car around the boy, wildly gesticulating for a ride.

"Walk it, you creep! The fresh air is good for you!" she called out the window.

Josephine laughed and turned the conversation back to the party and the night's good time. The car eased through the blackness with a purr. In no time they were at Easton Road in Doylestown. They stopped at the light, then pushed across the wide highway as the signal flashed in their favor.

They were no sooner across, still on Route 313, when, much to their astonished eyes, they caught sight of a figure approaching them on the far side of the road. It was clad all in brown ... pants, jacket and pack on the back. The young man with the dazzling blond hair was now walking towards them!

Anne braked suddenly with the surprise, then pressed her foot down on the accelerator spurting the car forward in the dark.

"I don't know what tricks that guy's up to but we're getting far away from him. I don't like it," grumbled Anne.

"But Anne, how could he be 'up to' anything? How could anybody walking get several miles away in a few minutes? Faster than we could drive it?" asked Josephine, her soft voice filled with wonderment.

"Probably had a motorcycle hidden in the bushes or something ..."

Josephine drawled back at the comment, "Oh, come on, Anne, you know nobody passed us on this road since we left the party! That boy is strange. There's something odd about him. His whole browness, his bright yellow hair, even his blue eyes..."

"Blue eyes?" drawled Anne. "How in the devil do you know he has blue eyes?"

"I could see them. Somehow, I could. They were a cold piercing blue. The kind that stare straight through you."

There followed a long thoughtful silence now as the two women rode homewards up York Road towards the New Hope-Lambertville bridge - over the Delaware River.

The car sped into New Hope on the moonless night. It was cold outside and the trees along York Road were crackling dry in a shaking wind. Anne braked as they approached the small bridge that spans the old New Hope canal.

Then she heard a gasp from her friend. Josephine was pointing ahead.

"Look!" she exclaimed.

Anne looked towards the side of the bridge they were now easing onto. There he was again! Walking ... once more. He turned and signaled for a ride. They w ere so close to him, every feature stood out to them in the headlights. His face was thing with delicately cut bones and hollow cheeks. The sharp staring eyes seemed to stab right through Josephine. Impulsively, she rolled down her window.

"Where do you want to go?" she leaned out and asked as Anne stopped the car.

In the same instant, right before the eyes of both women, the figure of the young man vanished. There was nothing on the bridge with them but a cold January wind.

Anne and Josephine stared at each other. It was the strangest thing that had ever happened to either one of them and they didn't know what to make of it. Many times afterwards, when they would be going someplace together they would speak of that strange night. Then finally the memory of it faded and they talked about it no more.

Until recently, that is. For again, in April of the spring of '72, they saw the ghostly traveler of the highways once more. This time, it occurred in New Jersey. The two friends were coming home from Flemington around midnight. They were in two different cars, Josephine ahead of Anne, headed along Route 202 towards Lambertville. Just as Josephine glided past the old Music Circus, she was startled to see a figure at the side of the road, going in her direction. He was all in brown, as before but without a pack on his back. It was the same young man with the blond hair and stabbing blue eyes!

Josephine blinked her lights on and off and honked in signal to Anne, who drew alongside of her. Both cars stopped.

"Do you see what I see?" asked Josephine, tremulously.

"You bet I do!" shouted Anne. "Let's get the heck out of here!" With that, she shot forwards and Josephine followed, fighting off cold shivers. With her heart beating fast, she forced herself to look back in the rear view mirror. He was gone. The highway in her wake was deserted.