The storm was so strong he could see hardly a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly he saw a car slowly looming, ghostlike, out of the gloom. It slowly crept toward him and stopped. Reflexively, the guy gets into the car and closes the door, then realized that there was nobody behind the wheel. The car slowly starts moving again. The guy is terrified, too scared to think of jumping out and running.
The guy sees that the car is slowly approaching a sharp curve.
The guy starts to pray, begging for his life, sure the ghost car will go off the road and he will plunge to his death when, just before the curve, a hand appears thru the window and turns the steering wheel, guiding the car safely around the bend.
Paralyzed with terror, the guy watches the hand reappear every time they reach a curve. Finally, the guy gathers his wits and leaps from the car and runs to the nearest town.
Wet and in shock, he goes to a bar and, voice quavering, orders two shots of corn whiskey and tells everybody about his horrible, supernatural experience.
A silence envelopes over everybody when they realize the guy is apparently sane and not drunk.
About half an hour later, two country boys in checkered flannel shirts walked in the same bar.
One says to the other, "Look Bubba, that's the idiot that rode in our car when we were pushing it."
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