The year was 1967. It was a dark moonlit night right before Halloween and an experience we’ll never forget: a drive through the cemetery in our 1964 red Plymouth station wagon full of my own children plus neighborhood kids wanting a thrill. This was prior to mandatory seatbelts for the back seats. Our station wagon had a fold down tailgate and the kids were sitting everywhere, giggling nervously.
They got more of a thrill than they expected. The trees became giants, and the gravestones became ghouls. First, I told them we were out of gas and cut the lights. Then I drove up on a raised drain cover and told them the car hit an empty grave. The kids screamed and it didn’t help when I said we would have to walk home (doesn’t compute now but they were scared nonetheless). Some children thought it was fun, some cried while lying on the floor, and some were just frozen in their seats.
I started the car back up and with each turn there was a new, unexpected event or unwanted “intruder”. When we finally left the cemetery a collective sigh of relief emanated from the car. This story – after 56 years – still gets discussed at family gatherings. I think they embellish the story now, telling me how scared they were, and how they still need therapy to recover! Truth be told, they revel in the memories!
P.S. As the daughter (apprx 9 yrs old) of this driver I was the one on the floor crying. I still get mileage out of guilting my mom for “traumatizing” me. LOL
Maybe that’s why there’s Halloween. A time to remember.