Abergavenny man vows not to hitchhike on Halloween again

HITCHHIKING has become something of a lost art.

In this cynical and less trusting age, it’s easy to believe that a stranded stranger on the side of the road who is hoping to thumb a lift is less an innocent fellow traveller looking to make their way a little further along the way than a cold-blooded psychopath who will pluck out your eyeballs with a spoon and eat them while singing “Tiptoe Through The Tulips.”

Likewise, who wants to risk getting in a car with someone who, behind their affable demeanour could well be John Wayne Gacy Mach 2?

Needless to say, hitchhiking, for the motorist and passenger, has always carried its own unique set of risks. Still, one that most people don’t usually worry about is getting picked up by a phantom motorist.

“It was just my luck!” Explained Johnny Turnip. “Whereas most people pick up phantom hitchhikers, I get picked up by a phantom motorist. And on Halloween of all nights. In retrospect, I should have known better, but I can tell you this: I won’t be looking for any easy rides on Halloween again.”

Turnip told the Chronicle that his encounter with the driver from beyond the grave happened on the Keepers Road between Blaenavon and Govilon.

“We’d gone to this Halloween party up top!” Explained Turnip. “It was at the house of some guy that Big Tony knows, but I wasn’t impressed.

“There were all these people there dressed up as zombie sluts, and men in white coats. Not my scene at all. I don’t do goth, and I definitely don’t do dressing up. In my books, if you haven’t grown out of that sort of thing by the time you’ve stopped being a toddler, you’ve got problems.

“There was even one guy there dressed as Jimmy Savile for god’s sake! Talk about lowering the tone.

“Anyway, after I nearly got into a fight with someone dressed as Freddy Krueger who tried to get me to dance to the Time Warp, I decided enough was enough and got the hell out of there.

“As I waded through a mob of mouthy Harley Quinns who were necking vodka straight from the bottle, I saw Big Tony and Puerto Rico Paul chatting to an affable Pennywise in the kitchen and told them I’d had enough and left them to carry on their conversation with their new clown friend.

“They might have been my mates and all, but they were also emotionally and intellectually retarded. The three of us had seen and experienced proper supernatural stuff, yet they were still happy to spend the one night of the year when the dead were given carte blanche to roam the earth, partying with a bunch of pretenders.

“It wasn’t for me. I had a taste for steak and life of late was raining burgers. Nevertheless, my appetite for the otherworldly remained, which is why I decided to walk back to Abergavenny over the Keepers and down the old tram road into Govilon. Proper spooky stuff at the best of times, but on Halloween something witchy was bound to happen.”

Turnip explained that as he neared the Keepers, which was covered in mist and looking malevolent his thoughts turned to Puerto Rico Paul’s mum.

“I was still shocked at the velocity of that old witch’s attack.” Said Turnip. “As soon as I had mentioned Gertrude Blackheart’s name in connection with the supposed curse of Abergavenny, she basically started to throttle me.

“If that had been all, I wouldn’t have minded. Plenty of people have tried to strangle me in my time. What really go to me was the way she used her witch powers to get inside my head. Basically, she put a vision in there of me being turned into a tortoise and put in the microwave. It wasn’t pretty, and I felt helpless as a kitten in a sack.

“I don’t mind telling you that I was close to tears as I actually became the tortoise and felt my shell about to blow up, but at the last minute I managed to regain my wits enough to realise I wasn’t a tortoise but a man being strangled by a psychotic pensioner. So I just grabbed her ears with my hands and started to pull really hard. That did the trick I can tell you. She released her hands from my throat and let out an almighty squeal. Having the advantage I threw her against her caravan and warned, ‘That’s enough witch!’

“As she crouched against her makeshift barbecue and panted like a cornered bitch that knows they're beaten but will fight to the death anyway, I slowly raised my hands and backed away slowly as she eyed me with scorn.

“‘Leave this business well alone, Turnip.’ She crowed. ‘It’ll be the death of you.’

“‘Whatever, witch!” I snapped. ‘The past is yours, but the future’s mine.’

“‘Fool!’ She said softly.

“And not being able to think of anything else witty or philosophical to say, I left the witch and her dowdy caravan in silence.

“Still, both her attack and warning had unnerved me. I’d never seen Puerto Rico Paul’s mum so agitated and serious. Usually she treated us and everything we did as some sort of comedy show. What had changed?”

Turnip added, “As I mused on recent events, I decided to stop at the Keepers for a crafty fag. I was a bit out of breath and needed a rest.”

The Abergavenny man explained that as he inhaled deeply and let the nicotine do its work, he savoured the rare feeling of being alone at the Keepers.

“It’s usually a bit like Barry Island up there these days!” Explained Turnip. “Wild swimmers in the day, and wife swappers in the night! But for some reason on Halloween I had the place to myself. It could have been that it was gone three in the morning, but still, I was alone beneath the stars with the whole of Monmouthshire stretched out before me.”

As he puffed philosophically, Turnip explained he felt his limbs growing weary and was beginning to dread the long walk back to the Mardy. When all of a sudden an old-fashioned car pulled up, the door swung open, and inside the dark interior which seemed energised with shadows, he heard a voice ask, “Would you care for a lift, sir?”

“How could I say no?” Turnip told the Chronicle. “But I tell you this. I won’t be getting in any cars with strange ghosts again!”

To be continued….