As I've mentioned before, the area to the south and west of Lorain has had a long history of unusual occurrences; our campgrounds are in this area. This story takes place near to an area known as Gore Orphanage.
If you Google "Gore Orphanage", you'll get a number of listings about a legend of a fire at an orphanage, and phantom children. There WAS an orphanage there, and a fire, but the place was unoccupied at the time...indeed, the site where everyone goes to experience the haunting is not where the orphanage was.
The true tale of Gore Orphanage can be found at Google, and is another story for another time. The area itself, however, has its own history, and eerie record.
The year is 1981. I'm out cruising with a friend, Walt, and his girlfriend, Shelly. We decide to visit the Gore Orphanage site, as Shelly's never been there, nor had I ever been there at night.
There's not much to see, once we arrive- the foundations of an old house, out in the middle of nowhere, with a two-lane road going past. We're sitting there in the car, looking around, when Shelly says she's getting creeped out by the place, and wants to leave. Walt fires up the Mustang II, and off we go, headed north, to catch Route 6, then east back to Lorain.
Suddenly, there's a car behind us, literally from out of nowhere; it didn't turn in behind us at a crossroad, but was just there. It was a large, old-fashioned car, like a gangster car from the thirties, a black silhouette with blazing headlights-even as it passed under streetlights, this was all that was visible.
The car kept about a car-length distance between us... If we slowed down, it did so, or sped up along with us.
Looking over his shoulder at me, Walt said, "Man, this thing's startin' to get to me.
What we're going to do is this-I'm going to pull in at the next driveway where there's lights on...I'll jump out, and knock on the door. The car might just keep going... If not, we'll ask them if we can call the cops." Considering that we had weed and beer in the car, this should tell you how freaked out we were.
Sure enough, there was a house up ahead with the porch and living room lights on. Walt swung into their driveway, but before he could get out of the car, the shadow car pulled in behind us, smacked the rear of the Mustang II with its front bumper, pulled back out, and headed back south, where it had come from. We, on the other hand, headed north, back toward town.
We continued on for a couple of miles, to a crossroads... Speeding towards it, through it, from the east, was the shadow car... It may have simply been a trick of the light, but I couldn't see anyone at the wheel.
When we got to a gas station on Route 6, we stopped to check the rear for damage... As hard as we'd been struck, there wasn't a scratch.