Old-Fashioned Hitchhiking Ghost Stories

Hitchhiking ghosts have been around for hundreds of years. In some cases seeing one was an arbiter of death

Many people are familiar with the urban myths involving phantom hitchhikers. One of the most famous in the United States is Chicago's Resurrection Mary. However hitchhiking ghosts have been around for a very long time, and have been scaring good samaritans for years, including when the mode of transportation was horseback. The following are a few of those stories.

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Giving a ride to a stranded traveler can become a haunting experience

The following stories were retold in 1943

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Retold by Agnes Sullivan, aged fifty, American born of Irish family.
One day a few years ago a woman was leaving one of the Catholic churches in Albany. On the doorstep she met a friend and in the course of their conversation the woman happened to mention that she had been praying for employment for some time and that as yet her prayers had gone unanswered. Her friend persuaded her to come back into the church with her and as they were leaving the church a few minutes later they met a young man who asked if either one of them was seeking employment. The woman replied that she was seeking employment as a housekeeper or as a companion. Then the young man gave her a card containing the name and address of an elderly woman who he said was badly in need of such a person. The next day the woman called at the address given to her. The old lady said that she was in need of a companion but since she had told no one of it, she wondered how the woman had found out. The applicant told her that a young man had given her the address and then seeing his picture on the wall, she pointed to him and said that it was he who had given her the information. The old lady said: “Why that is impossible because that is a picture of my son and he’s been dead for more than six months!”

Retold by Frank Smith, aged forty-eight, electrician, Polish descent.
A man that I know, a professional man in town, who does not want to be quoted
because he thought it would reflect on  his  professional  standing, once told me this story.

He told me that when he was in  school  in  Northern  Italy, he and  a friend of his event out to a dance in the neighboring village. On the way out, they hitch- hiked with a farmer and so came within a few miles of their destination. The farmer turned to go on a different road and left them standing in the road. They noticed a young lad sitting on a milestone. He called them and asked them if they would do him a favor. He first asked them whether they had come from  the  village. They said yes. He said, “Will you take this message to my parents?” He gave them the address and they promised they would after the dance. And then they went on their way to the dance. For some reason or other they looked around

After  taking a few steps and  nowhere could  they see  this stranger, and  they  went
into  the dance, stayed fairly late until  they  were ready  to go home. On their  way
home they reminded each other of the promise to deliver the message. They thought
it was late but finally decided to deliver the message anyway.

They came to the house, rapped at the door, and an elderly woman came to the door. They inquired whether so-and-so lived there and she said yes, that  was her name. Then they said they had a message from her son. Stie immediately left the door and went to the house and the husband came out and lectured the boys, saying thai they shouldn’t have done what they did. They were perplexed for they had seen nothing wrong in what they had done. Then they delivered the message and it was that what the father was looking tor was in the drawer where he had looked, but under the paper. The father investigated  and  found  what  he  had  been looking for.

The father then brought a group photograph and asked them to see if they could recognize who had given them the message. Both the man that told me and his friend immediately recognized the lad who had given them the message on the road. Then the father confessed that that was his son who had been killed six months before at that spot.
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The mother had thought it was a prank; so she had been hurt.

These stories of the elements of jealousy and a living corpse

Retold by Mr. and Mrs. Paul DerOhannesian, Sr., of Armenian stock. They knew this story in their birthplace, Marark, Turkey.

A young man riding home on horseback is delayed  so  that  he  must  travel  at night. He is quite a distance from town when he  is  about  to  pass  a  cemetery.  A little perturbed and a little frightened he notices a woman sitting beside the  road crying. He stops his horse and asks her what is the trouble. She tells him she must get to town, but she is so tired and weak she cannot. He willingly assists her on the horse. Riding along as well as possible he holds her at the same time (so she won’t fall off. Galloping along toward home, he notices she is  becoming  heavier  and  harder  to hold on the horse. She never speaks a word. He finally arrives at the town at dawn, thoroughly frightened and worried. He dismounts and is about to help the lady down when he discovers she is a corpse.
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Early risers tell the frightened man not to worry as “she” does this on the anniversary of her burial every year since “she” died. Her relatives take the corpse back and rebuy it.

Retold by Grace C. Martin, who lived as a girl in and near Delmar, a small town, eight miles southwest of Albany, New York. The story was current in the 1890s.

She told of tales that she has heard of a ghost rider who used to jump on young men’s horses as they went past a certain woods near Delmar on their way to parties. The rider, a woman, always disappeared when they arrived at their destination.
 
She was believed to have been a jealous one, but did little harm except riding behind the young man.

These stories originate in California

Retold by Elmer Hockel of Fort Hunter, sixty-five  years  old,  broom maker, who heard it from his father about 1882 as having happened in Fort Hunter about 182o.

Mr. Hockel was returning to his home one night in a lumber wagon driving a team of horses, when he saw a man walking in the same direction. He  stopped and asked if he wanted to ride. The man climbed in without saying anything, and Mr. Hockel drove on. He tried to talk to him, but the man said nothing. Mr. Hockel later said that as he caught a glimpse of his face, it looked  peculiar  in color. After driving a considerable distance, he turned to speak to him and  the man had disappeared. He stopped the team and got out to see if the man  had fallen out, but he could find nothing. He never understood or was able to explain who or what the man represented.

Retold by James Rowe of Morris, New York, circa late 19th century. 

The rain  was  coming  down  hard,  and  I  feared  that  Grandfather  Rowe   would start any minute for  the  barn,  but  it  seemed  he  was  merely  rummaging  through his mind for another  story.  He  spat  reflectively  and  continued,  “That’s  all  I've ever seen myself, but I recollect Grandma Anthony  telling  about  a  teamster  who used to drive this road back in the days when they did a big business hauling freight. The teamster was a great big man, afraid of neither man nor  the devil;  night or day made no difference to him.

“Well, one dark rainy night he was hauling freight down the line, when a man climbed on ihe wagon seat right beside him out of the darkness. Never said a word, just climbed on and sat down- The teamster looked  him over, undecided whether to kick him off or not. He couldn’t see much, because the fellow  had  his collar  turned up and his cap pulled down low. The teamster didn’t know just what to make of it, so they rode along a mile or two: neither one said a thing, Then all at once the man pitched sidewards off the wagon into the road.

“The teamster pulled up and looked for the fellow, but it was so tarnation dark he couldn't see nothing. So he yelled for a lantern at  a farmhouse  up  the  road, and he and the farmer searched for the stranger.  But he had disappeared;  there wasn’t a trace of him.
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“Nobody  would  have  thought much  about  it, but  a couple  of  trips  later they
found  the  teamster  lying in  the  road  with  a  broken  neck.  He  had  fallen  off the
wagon at the exact spot where lle claimed the man had disappeared into the darkness.”

This story is out of New York.

Retold by Mrs. Henry G. Rebar,  as told to her by her mother who lived in Belfort. It is in the Black River Valley country in the western foothills of the Adirondacks.

Clarence Holman, who worked in the  Belfort  tannery  in  the  late  ’9o's,  one winter night he hired a team and cutter  to go to a show  at  the Croghan  opera  house, four miles away. On his way home, just at  midnight,  he  saw  a  heavily  cloaked figure standing in the wheel track, by the  cemetery  on  the  outskirts  of  town,  He was forced to draw up or run over the man.  He  stopped,  threw  back  the  buffalo robe, and called, “Do you want a ride?” The man did not answer, but, face averted, climbed into the sleigh. Clarence made a few  perfunctory  remarks,  but  received no answer. The winter night was cold, but dry.  Now,  however,  the  air  seemed pervaded with a clammy chill. The buffalo robe lay fiat upon the seat, and Clarence had the feeling that there was no one beside him. Still, he could see the unmistakable outlines of the man's figure. The horses were snorting and sniffing (horses can always scent ghosts or witches), and were only too eager to run when Clarence gave them their heads. Finally they  reached  his  boarding  house  at  Belfort. He stopped the horses, threw  back  the  robe,  stammered,  ”Well,  this  is as  far as I got” Without saying a word or turning  his  head,  the  man  started  to get  out.  But there against the white snow in the bright moonlight was nothing.

Retold by Charles VanBuren, an elderly native of Albany, New York, who heard the story as a boy.

Red always walked home from work. Every night about the same time, he was overtaken by a man driving along in  an  old-fashioned  top  buggy.  They  always spoke and went on their way.

One night it began to rain, hard, and this time when the man came  along  he offered Red a ride. Since they had a speaking acquaintance, and since it was raining so hard, Red was glad io get the ride. He got in and felt he should make some sort of conversation but he didn’t get any answer. He noticed that the man’s face was hidden by a high collar and he didn't turn his face to Red at first.

When he finally did turn his face, he stared at Red as if he were trying to stare through him.  His  eyes  were a bright  green  like  a  cat’s and his skin  was  white  like a dead person. Red was surprised, and said,“Do you feel sicks You are so pale."

Still the man stared at him while his face changed to a pale glow, then he disappeared. The horse started running faster  and  faster,  while  Red,  frightened  by the man's disappearance, tried to stop him.

Red finally stopped the horse and got out of the buggy;  ihe second  he  did so, the man appeared on the seat again, and drove away fast,

If you compare these stories to more modern and popularized ones, all you have to do is replace the horse or buggy for a vehicle. Not all of the hitchhikers were trying to make it home, others seem to have an otherworldly cast of doom. There is no doubt that phantom hitchhikers have been with us for a very long time.

SOURCE - Jones, L. (1944). Hitchhiking Ghosts in New York. California Folklore Quarterly, 3(4), 284-292. doi:10.2307/1495785