Road Legends: Stories Told in the Night

Well, I’ve told you so much these months about work, that I thought I’d change things up a bit. Why not relieve the stress with some of our own folklore? Because yes, we road folk have our own, just like the ancient peoples of our Europe.

So I started searching, listening, and remembering. And there’s a wealth of stories that fly from mouth to mouth, in parking lots, in roadside diners, stories that grow with every journey and every imagination.

In these final days of the year, I set out to gather some of those fables, those exaggerated tales born on the loneliest stretches of this vast and dark geography. I assure you, delving into this world of invented narratives, where the truth stretches like a truck’s shadow at dusk, has its charm.

The Ghost on the Shoulder
One of the ones most talked about on the CB radio. Many swear they’ve come across, on a deserted route in the dead of night, a figure on the hard shoulder. Sometimes it’s a hitchhiker with old-fashioned clothes; other times, a young woman in a floating white dress. They signal, asking with silent screams to be taken. The trucker, with that helping instinct, stops. Picks them up. But after a few kilometers, when he glances back at the passenger seat… there’s no one. They vanished. In some versions, it’s later discovered it was someone who died in an accident right there, decades ago. In others, the ghost is good: there are even blurry videos online of a luminous silhouette pushing a pedestrian to save them from being run over. Are they real? Who knows. But the story feeds on them.

The Truck That Moved On Its Own
This is a classic. The one about the driver who, exhausted by one of those storms that wash the asphalt, parks at an abandoned gas station to sleep a while. He collapses in the bunk. Upon waking, something doesn’t add up. The landscape has changed. The truck is kilometers ahead, or the tracks around it show it went in circles all night, as if in a trance. He never touched the wheel. Some say it was the work of forces we don’t understand; others, that it was a prank. But the fear of waking up and not recognizing the place where you fell asleep… that’s real.

The Lights That Follow
On the most remote stretches, where darkness is absolute, many have sworn to see them: dancing lights. They’re not headlights, nor reflectors. They’re bright orbs, will-o’-the-wisps that flicker and float along the route, keeping pace with the truck. They follow you for kilometers, and when you decide it’s too much, they go out all at once. In rest areas, they debate: are they UFOs? Something from underground? Ghosts of other travelers? No one has the answer, but everyone knows someone who saw them.

The Devil’s Dog
One of the most unsettling. They speak of a black dog, enormous, appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the night on deserted roads. It’s not a normal animal: it has red eyes that gleam in the headlight haze, and it runs. It runs alongside the truck at an impossible speed, staring fixedly at the driver. The legend says that if you look it in the eyes, it brings bad luck, accidents… or worse. Those who have seen it tell of a chill freezing their blood, and the beast suddenly vanishing as if it had never been there.

The Girl on the Curve
This one was told to me by an old Galician trucker. It was a tight winter’s night, with a fog that soaked everything. He was heading home, fighting sleep, when he saw her. A girl, still as a post, by the roadside. She wore only a white, vaporous nightgown. Thinking it was an accident, he stopped. She got in without a word. Not a sound. The journey continued in a heavy silence. He tried to talk, but she just stared ahead. Suddenly, with a voice that seemed not of this world, she whispered: “Watch out for the curve.” He frowned: there was no curve on that straight stretch. But seconds later, the fog parted and there it was: an extremely sharp curve that didn’t appear in his memory. He yanked the wheel, the truck skidded and ended up sideways. With his heart about to leap out of his mouth, he turned to the passenger seat to ask if she was okay. The seat was empty. Only the cold of the night inside the cabin.

The Phantom Braking
And of course, the one about the sound everyone fears to hear: the dry, thunderous sound of air brakes slamming on when there’s nothing ahead. A sudden stop in the middle of nowhere, for no reason. Some say it’s the memory of an accident imprinted on the asphalt; others, that it’s a warning from beyond to slow down. Whatever it is, more than one has gotten out of the truck with legs trembling, checking the axles and wheels, finding not a scratch. Only the echo of the jolt, repeating in their head.