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It was 1969 when my friend and I decided to take a spontaneous road trip up the Fraser Canyon in British Columbia. We drove my old \u201959 Chevy Impala and stumbled upon a logging road leading into the mountains. After some exploring, we found an old logging camp and opted to spend the night in one of the bunkhouses. Dinner was a simple spaghetti feast, followed by some weed that made the atmosphere feel even creepier. Despite our initial excitement, paranoia set in as night fell, and we decided to leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As we packed up and headed back down the narrow road, we encountered a large boulder that hadn\u2019t been there before. After a tough effort, we rolled it aside and continued our descent. However, as we reached a familiar crossroads, our engine abruptly died, and we heard three distinct rifle shots. Instinctively, we felt we were in danger. Just as I restarted the engine, a pickup truck with a headlight out appeared behind us, tailgating aggressively. Panic ensued as we sped down the highway, finally escaping when the truck turned off the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fast forward to 1992, when I returned to the same area with my second wife. Intrigued by the memories, we decided to revisit the old logging camp. As dusk approached, the eerie familiarity of the trip started to resurface. We found that same boulder blocking the road, which sent chills down my spine. After moving it, the engine died again at the crossroads, and we heard those same three rifle shots. A single headlight emerged behind us, eerily reminiscent of my previous encounter. My wife screamed for me to drive, and we raced down the highway, narrowly escaping the fear that had haunted me for years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/pulsperry.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/10\/image-840.png\")
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