A Great Time

September 26th 1975 was a great day to be alive. It was a Friday night, we had a home football game and bonfire and no one expected me home till late Saturday afternoon. I was gonna bunk at Danny’s house and he was gonna bunk at mine. Barry and Gordy already worked their deals and were free for the night. The plan was to just raise hell. See, we all turned sixteen last summer and were just bustin at the seams to break in our new found freedom. The plan was to steal a case of warm beer from Barry’s old man and make a night of it. He kept a fridge full of cold beer in their garage and several cases on the floor and would never miss one case, especially a warm one. We had enough cash for gas, plenty of smokes and a 1967 Plymouth Fury III, life was good.

During a normal school day it was hard to concentrate, especially at sixteen, but with rockin Friday night plans it was almost impossible. Barry and I gave in to temptation and cut gym class to hang out at Gems corner store and pool hall. As it got closer to dusk we met up with Danny and Gordy and started out for the stadium to meet up with a couple of girls who could only make this night better. Kim and Connie met us under the bleachers and were already goofy from some beer they drank at Connies’ house. We found an empty bleacher and stretched out, more interested in bull shitting than watching the game. Besides, our football team sucked pretty bad, they only won two games last season and one was due to forfeit.

As the game progressed it grew colder and a stiff breeze was blowing. The bonfire was built at the end of the field past the goal post and ready to light right after we won the game. Well, we lost the game, but they lit the fire anyhow. It burned so hot no one could get within twenty feet of the thing without singeing their eyebrows. The cheerleaders did their jumps and splits and I thought for sure their asses would burst into flames, mid kick. The fire slowly died and the crowd dispersed but we hung around acting like kids, cracking each other up and pissing off the girls. They thought we’d be more romantic but hey, that wasn’t in tonight’s plans. The girls soon left and we found ourselves alone and in the dark. The Fury sat under the one spotlight in the parking lot and looked ready to ride.

We headed down town to run the circuit. At sixteen years old there wasn’t much else to do on a Friday night, and we knew damn well the circuit would be busy. The circuit consisted of three miles down Market Street, Left on George Street, then three miles back up Philadelphia Street with three lanes side by side made for drag racing. We drove the Circuit, checking out the babes, yelling back and forth between cars and burning rubber at the red lights. There were some guys we knew in front of Burger King so we stopped in and chowed down on Whoppers and fries before heading out to god knows where. In the back I saw Bill Kline just lounging with his arm around a very cute girl. Bill graduated last year and was a freshman in college. He was cool as hell, a lot of fun and I hadn’t seen him in months. I went back to shoot the breeze and got caught up on what’s happening in college, how he liked State and who the girl was. Barry and Gordy joined us and we all had a couple of remember when laughs at Bills expense. We asked them along and Bill said his girlfriend had to work in an hour but he’d hang with us. We waited and got another coke.

Now we had a crew, five guys, lots of gas, smokes, beer and nothing but time. Bill asked if we knew the way to Dover house, a scary old place on the other side of the county. I said, Hell, Barry and I were at the house last week there and should be a party tonight. What a great idea so we headed out. We had a good hours drive into the country so we popped a couple of beers and cruised to Dover. The drive was great, Barry had a kick ass eight track tape player and we’re blasting Led Zeppelin, Bachman Turner Overdrive and Aerosmith the whole way. The Schlitz had cooled in the car and went down so smooth. We were smoking like chimneys and the car filled with so much smoke we put the windows down and let the wind blow through. We got lost a couple of times but eventually found the driveway.

Bill took it upon himself to tell us the history of Dover house. It was built around 1870 right after the civil war, made of stone and concrete and a big porch on front with two brick chimneys. The farmer built the house near the creek on about five hundred acres where he grew corn. At the main road he had another 100 acres or so where he grew trees. The house was built right in the middle of the property, mainly for privacy but also to be close to the creek. There were two dirt roads to get to the house, one from the west and one from the south. Both roads had seen better days and the farmer who currently leased the land didn’t do much to maintain them.

Around 1900 the farmer, his wife and their four kids were up in the field baling hay when a fire broke out in the kitchen. The farmer and wife ran to the house to dowse the flames and ended up somehow trapped in the house where they both burned to death. After the burial the farmers’ brother rebuilt the house and raised all four kids as his own but they never got over their parents death and it just wore them down. About ten years later the oldest son hung himself in the barn and his younger sister just went nuts and they put her up in the funny farm in Belmont. In about the late 1930s the farmers’ brother sold the house and farm and no one knows what happened to the other two kids.

A young Doctor and his wife bought the house around 1938 and fixed up the place real nice. They added a room on the back, built a dirt floor garage for their new car and planted the apple trees out back. They had a couple of kids when World War II broke out and, despite his wife’s pleading the Doctor enlisted in the Army medical corps and went to the Pacific. He saw a lot of action there and came back a changed man and his family didn’t cope well with his changes. He started drinking and sort of gave up on things. That’s when the house fell into disrepair.

One day his kids were going through some souvenirs the Doc brought back from the war and got hold of a grenade. Not thinking it was live they tossed it back and forth a bit, got stupid and pulled the pin. Damn thing blew up and killed them both in the living room. After the funeral the doctor never came out of that house again. They said he went crazy with grief over his kids and all he’d seen in the war and just couldn’t cope. Later that winter when his wife hadn’t been seen for a week or so the cops came out to check on the place. Seems the doctor killed his wife with an axe and buried her in a shallow grave in the garage. Then he lay down next to her and blew his head off with a 45. After that the cops just shut the house down and nobody’s lived there since. The farmer down the road bought the land and keeps the road clear but the house has been abandoned since the 40s.

In the 60’s a bunch of kids from town heard the stories about Dover house and finally through trial and error found the dirt road. It’s so far off the beaten path from anyone or anything; nobody knows when you’re here. Even the farmer doesn’t drive back here because he’s got no use for the house, only the land. Everyone that knows this place comes here around Halloween and shares stories they’ve heard or just makes shit up to scare the hell out of each other. Anyhow I’ve been coming here since I was a sophomore in High school. It’s just a cool place to hang out.

I said, “Barry and I were here just last partying down by the creek till it started raining and we all moved inside. All the glass is broken out and the roof leaks but we built a big fire in the fireplace and warmed up pretty good. A couple of guys brought sleeping bags and crashed in the living room right next to the fireplace. I wouldn’t sleep there unless we had a crowd; it kind of creeped me out.” Barry called me a pussy and said “you wouldn’t sleep in my backyard without a teddy bear to keep you safe.” I said “Fuck you, I was four years old.” We cracked up at our own wit and drank another beer.

As we started down the drive I noticed the corn hadn’t been harvested, was still on the stalk and smelled real sweet. The night was cool and dry and the wind died down so it was comfortable. We kept the windows open to let the smoke out and the dust from the road drifted in. We had to go very slow down the drive because of deep ruts left by the farmers tractor and recent rains. A couple of times the Fury bottomed out in the hard dirt and we thought we might have to get out and rock her free, but she kept going. It took about ten minutes to finally get to the end of the corn field and there stood Dover house. There was a quarter moon that night which lit the place with an eerie light. We pulled into the roundabout in front of the house and parked across from the big porch and under an ancient oak tree. Everybody jumped out and took a half gallon piss on that tree. Bills stories kind of spooked us a little but once we got to the house our bravery back.

We were five teenage boys, slightly drunk and all invincible. Barry asked Bill where the grave was in the Garage and we looked for a flashlight to do some exploring. We had to really yank on the door to get it open since it was overgrown with vines. Inside it smelled like gasoline and motor oil. Scattered everywhere were a bunch of abandoned car parts, old motors, rusty farm equipment and trash. We looked around the floor and Gordy called, “I think it’s over here.” There in the middle of the floor under a bunch of old cardboard boxes was a hole. It was about six feet long, two feet wide and a foot deep. The dirt had been piled next to it on the floor. “This must be where he buried his old lady after he bashed her head in,” Danny said. Barry said “How do you know he bashed in her head, maybe he cut it clean off? Anyhow I guess here’s where she ended up; part of her anyways.” We dared Danny to lie in the grave and he screamed,” Kiss my ass.” We all thought it was cool and creepy at the same time, standing right next to an open grave. Then Bill let out a scream that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. We jumped and screamed too, then nervously laughed our asses off, shaken by seeing the murder site up close and personal.

Bill said “You want to go in the house and see where the kitchen was, where the farmer and his wife burned to death.” We reluctantly said yeah, cool and walked in the front door and stepped carefully over the holes in the floor so as not to fall in that basement. The flashlight lit up a room in the back with a busted up stove in the corner and some cabinets still hanging from the wall. Bill said, “I imagine this is where they died after they got caught in the fire. The farmers’ brother had to gut the whole house to re-build it but the old kitchen would be in this same place.” Barry said, “How’d he get the stink out?” We all laughed then stood in silence looking around in the dark. With one flashlight we couldn’t really explore too much but Danny and Gordy had never been there before and we really wanted to scare the bejesus out of them. I suggested we go into the basement and see what was down there. I’d been there before and it was scary, but newbies would probably piss a little in their jockey shorts.

We found the stairs and creaked our way down. Each stair felt like it was going to give out so we took our time. The basement had a dirt floor and in the corner was a huge old furnace that looked like a giant octopus with pipes going everywhere. In the back was a wooden bulkhead door which led up stairs to the outside, “probably where they delivered coal” Barry said. To one side of the furnace was a small room with no door and just a bunch of shelves, “must have been a pantry” I said. I told Gordy and Danny to take a look at the bottom shelf because someone wrote on it. They walked up to the shelf and tried to see what was written but couldn’t make it out, it was too dark. Bill brought the light over and shined it on the shelf, then quickly turned it to the wall. Mounted on the wall was a full length mirror, which reflected Danny and Gordy through the dust. They about shit themselves when they saw their reflection and each let out a little girl scream that sent the rest of us into convulsions. I couldn’t stop laughing and they both kept punching me in the arm calling me asshole, but, God it was worth it.

Now the smell in that old house was pretty strong and we needed some fresh air to recover from all the screaming, pants pissing etc. We headed outside to the car, lit a couple of butts and each got a fresh beer. We were still laughing nervously but started feeling better in the fresh air. Barry and I climbed on the hood of the Fury and lay back against the windshield, puffing away and chugging Schlitz. The other guys were collecting firewood to keep us warm against the night air. We were having the time of our lives, hanging with friends, a slight beer buzz and a fire. That’s as good as it get.

I looked up at the old house, its broken shutters hanging crooked, part of the roof caved in and the dormer with its broken windows. I noticed a light in the window, or where the window should be. It looked like a cigarette glowing but a little brighter. Then I noticed another one close to the first. I remember thinking there aren’t any windows to reflect light they were all busted out twenty years ago. I told Barry “look up at that dormer and tell me what you see”. He stared for half a minute and said “I see two red lights.” I said, “From where.” “Hell, he said, “maybe they’re reflected off a water tower or something over toward town.” We got off the car and walked around the tree but couldn’t see any lights in any direction. It was dark as hell. “Well, it has to be something reflecting,” he said. “But Barry there hasn’t’ been a window in this house forever.” By this time Gordy, Danny and Bill were back and we asked them to take a look. They all gazed up at the window and Bill said “it’s a reflection from somewhere.” I said you need a window for a reflection and he said maybe there’s a window left up there. He picked up a rock and gave it a pitch, it hit the roof. Now we all got in on the action and started pitching rocks at the red lights. One rock went inside and we heard it hit the far wall and rattle down the stairs, the rest just bounced harmlessly off the outside walls and roof. Then Gordy picked up a baseball sized boulder, wound up and let it fly. It crashed on the dormer with a loud thud, then things changed. Both lights moved, together, sideways, than back than sideways again, than up, than down. We stared, amazed, but froze where we stood. Ten the lights moved slowly away from the window and appeared to be leaving we watched in horror as they appeared to blink.

It took about ten seconds for all of us to get in the car. Amazingly the Fury started on the first try and we silently started down the road. No one spoke. The beer had worn off when the lights moved and five very scared very quiet boys drove down the road away from the house. We were traveling at about five MPH due to the horrible road conditions and still had all the windows down from earlier. That’s when we noticed the noise. Something was rustling the corn next to the car, something big. There was no wind, the dust from the road hung in the air and something was moving through the corn next to the car. As we each heard the noise we each reacted. Our voices came back high and squeaky as we said, drive a little faster Barry, go faster man. I was in the back seat and when sound got louder I moved toward the driver side to get further away from the sound. When the sound shifted to the corn on the driver’s side Barry got moving. Five MPH soon became ten MPH and the big car lurched up and down in the ruts. Danny and I were bouncing around the back seat like a pair of jumping jacks.

Then it changed again and the rustling was on the passenger side. Bill shined the flashlight to see if he could catch a glimpse and we all saw huge swaths of corn bending and whipping like a car was driving through at full speed. Now we were going about fifteen but still in slow motion. The road smoothed out a little and ran straight for a bit before we got to the trees. Barry sped up as much as he could and we spun out around the last bend in the road spitting dust and slinging gravel as we went, but it was still there. At twenty and twenty five MPH we should have pulled away, but it was still there. We were all wound pretty tight yelling move it man screw the car but it kept up with us. When came around the last turn and saw the trees up ahead, about a quarter mile we could make out the main road and freedom. The creek was on the passenger side and the road leaned toward the creek so we had to slow down a bit so as not to slide into the water.

That’s when it hit. Someone or something slammed the back of the car so hard that Danny and I flew back into the seat and hit our heads on the window frame. The other guys started screaming bloody murder and Barry hit the gas one last time to get to that road. We hit the road going about thirty five, slid sideways squealing the tires, went off the shoulder into the ditch, then straightened up and got back on the pavement. Barry floored the beast, sixty, seventy, eighty nothing seemed too fast. We were still screaming a minute later when we pulled into an elementary school and screeched to a halt under the only streetlight. We jumped out of the car, weak in the knees from our escape from God knows what.

Barry went behind the car to puke or something and we heard him yell holy shit. We all ran back and in the light we saw the edge of the trunk had a deep football sized dent, right on the edge. This was a heavy metal 1967 Plymouth. There was no paint missing just one dent. “What the hell does that?” Bill yelled. We eventually got back in the car and drove slowly back to Gordy’s house to collect our thoughts and crash in his barn. Our minds were running a mile a minute and our adrenaline shot up every time one of us started talking about it.

We talked all night, hushed tones from boys scared out of their wits. We tried to make sense of what happened. Bill was older and wiser than the rest of us but that night he was just a scared kid too. We had no idea what it was, what happened, we couldn’t explain anything and the more we tried the more we failed. We agreed not to tell anyone right away because no one would believe us and everyone would want to hit Dover house to experience the horror, everyone except us.

Now, 39 years later I still get goose bumps thinking about that place. I haven’t slept in days just from writing about that night. Even now I don’t know what it was or what could have done that to our car but I do know it’s the most scared I’ve ever been. Occasionally I’ll run into one of those guys, we just look each other in the eye, shake our heads and say whew, we dodged that bullet, and I know for a fact none of us has been back.

I shared this story with my scout troop on campout a couple of years ago. The fire died down around midnight and we sent them to bed so we could get an early start. Later I woke to whispers in the distance and when I got up to check all of the scouts were huddled around the fire, recapping the story and scared to get in their tents. To comfort them, but also a bit shaken, I joined them.