Paul and Laurie were spooked when it sounded like her car was breathing.  

By Laurie Stone

Yes, cars can be spooky. At least mine was, parked in our garage one strange October night. This time of year, it’s easy to picture witches and goblins flying by the window or tapping you on the shoulder, but being unnerved by your automobile?

That night my younger son Paul went to get something from the garage. He came back with a funny look on his face.

“Your car’s making a strange noise,” he said. Not knowing what that meant, I had to investigate. Sure enough, my car was making an odd noise — like someone breathing.

It sounded like the car had just run a big race and was finally getting its breath back — with slow, human-like pants.

We stood there, confused. It didn’t help that this was a typical late October night, windy, dark and easily spooky. It didn’t help that only Paul and I were at home. My husband Randy was away on business. My older son Patrick had moved out.

Paul and I walked around the car, looking for clues, but nothing seemed amiss. Had the radio been left on? Was a tire leaking? Nada. We listened to the hood and that’s when we realized the “breathing” was coming from under the car.

Paul and I stopped, catching each other’s eye, both thinking the same thing. Was someone hiding beneath? An escaped convict or serial killer on some murderous rampage? Was he lying under my car? Was it a wounded animal, a large, scary mountain lion or wolverine? The garage door had been left open. Anyone or anything could’ve wandered in.

We got on either side and tentatively bent down. My heart sped up, ready for someone or something to pull me under, something desperate and savage and terrifying.

But there was nothing. Still, the strange “breathing” continued.

“Weird,” said Paul. Yes, it was weird.

We came back into the house, but later, couldn’t help ourselves. We returned to the garage. Sure enough, the car was still doing that slow, strange panting. Again, we looked everywhere and found nothing.

The next day I came out and the sound was gone. We never heard it again and still have no idea what it was.

If someone or something was there in the garage that night, they hid themselves well and left. But we never found anything, so it was probably nothing, all in our imaginations. Or was it?

Whatever the case, whenever these spooky October nights roll around, I think of that night, a night Paul and I never fully understood and never will — the night of the haunted car.

Laurie Stone writes from the woods of Easton, Conn. Her blog, “Musings, Rants &Scribbles,” shares thoughts on growing up, older and (hopefully) wiser. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.