Old-Fashioned Hitchhiking Ghost Stories

By M.P. Pellicer | Stranger Than Fiction Stories
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. 

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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. 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.

​The following are a few of those stories.

Retold by Agnes Sullivan, aged fifty, American born of Irish family c.1943:

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​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 c.1943:

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 went out to a dance in the neighboring village. On the way out, they hitch-hiked with a farmer, but within a few miles of their destination the farmer turned to go on a different road and left them standing in the road.

Then 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, the stranger was nowhere to be found.

They went to 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.

She immediately left the door and went into the house, and the husband came out and lectured the boys, saying 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. The father found what he had been looking for in a drawer. He showed them a group photograph and asked them to see if they could recognize who had given them the message. They 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. 

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 was delayed so that he had to travel at night. He was quite a distance from the town when he was about to pass a cemetery. A little perturbed and frightened he noticed a woman sitting beside the road crying.

He stopped his horse and asked her what was the trouble. She told him she must get to town, but she was so tired and weak she could not. He willingly assisted her on the horse. Riding along, he held her at the same time so she wouldn't fall off. Galloping along toward home, he noticed she was becoming heavier and harder to hold on the horse. She never spoke a word. He finally arrived at the town at dawn, thoroughly frightened and worried. He dismounted and was about to help the lady down when he discovered she was a corpse. Early risers told 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 rebury 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 wood 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. 

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 1820. 

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 out of the darkness a man climbed on the wagon seat right beside him  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 sideward 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.

'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 he claimed the man had disappeared into the darkness.' 

​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 flat 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 go.'

​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 to 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 sick? 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; the second he did so, the man appeared on the seat again, and drove away fast.