Apparently I was in the car when this happened,
though I genuinely don't remember it happening. I'm spending this QOTW listening to the happiest, fluffiest music imaginable to try and offset the spooky.

Before I grew up and left home, my parents and I used to travel to Wales from Leicestershire to visit my grandparents every so often, usually to coincide with school holidays. One particular return trip, my mum, who at the time wasn't very used to motorway driving (she used to let my dad do it all until he was misdiagnosed with epilepsy and had to send his licence back) and she was feeling sort of jittery.

Somewhere on the M6, mum is in the middle lane, and my dad is backseat driving, something not unusual for his nature (he does it to me, too). Suddenly, he says to her "Why aren't you overtaking?"

Mummy Maladicta looks in her rearview mirror and says "I'm just waiting for this motorbike to get out of my way, he's indicating so I'd better let him go first."

Just as she does so, a Merc zips down the outside, way over the limit. Had she pulled out, it would have gone straight into the back of the car (and by extension, probably sent me through the windscreen).

Daddy Maladicta looks round: "What motorbike?", to which Mummy Maladicta adds "A bloke on a really old-looking bike, he was all done up in an old-fashioned helmet and leathers."

Then she looks in the mirror again. No motorbike.

She then goes deathly silent and stays that way most of the way home.

Why? Well here's where the really spooky bit comes in: my mum's Uncle Teddy had died a few years before I was born, and he was an old-school biker type, with leathers and an old Triumph bike. Mummy Maladicta is convinced he was watching over her and this story gives me the creeps every time she tells it.
( Maladicta, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 0:17, 2 replies)

*gleefully accepts fluffeh-hugs*
*and sends some of her own*
( Maladicta, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 0:54, closed)