This story happened about a month ago near a little town in Mexico.. and though it starts to sound like an Alfred Hitchcock tale, it's real.
On a pitch dark night in the height of a raging storm, an unfortunate
man slowly trudged along the side of a road hoping to hitch a ride from a sympathetic stranger. The collar of his duster coat was hiked up close around his neck and his wide-brimmed hat yanked down tight on his head.
As the night thundered on, no cars traveled by on the lonely road. The storm was now so fierce and rain so thick he could barely see but a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly he saw the lights of a car coming towards him and slowly come to a stop.
The man without thinking ran to it and jumped in. He shut the door, only to realize there was nobody behind the wheel. The car started ahead slowly; >and soon he peered out at the rugged road, spotting a dangerous curve coming his way. Thoroughly frightened, he started to pray and begged for his life.
He hadn't come out of shock, when just before the car teetered over the edge, a hand appeared through the window and moved the wheel. The hombre, paralyzed in terror, watched how the hand appeared at each sharp turn in the road.
Gathering strength, the man finally jumped out of the car and, stumbling, ran toward dimly flickering lights of a nearby village. Soaking wet and in utter shock, he pushed open the door of a small cantina and, gasping, asked for two shots of tequila. Drained and white with fright, he started telling the bartender and startled customers about his horrifying experience. A sudden silence dropped, as they realized the poor man was sobbing..and wasn't drunk.
Soon, out of the raging storm two drenched hombres slogged into the same cantina. Looking up and taking off his hat, one quickly said to the other. "Look Pepe, that's the gringo who got in the car when we were pushing it!"