Bonsior, Madame. Ah 'ave cerm to 'aunt you...
Before I knew them, my late mother in law and the ex had gone to France with her brother in law, who was a continental trucker. They travelled in his cab, and stayed where he stayed – essentially French road side truck stops. Basic, but comfortable, apparently.

One evening, as tiredness took hold and she started to drift off to sleep, she was jolted awake by a feeling that she wasn’t alone in the room. Not wishing to make any sudden movements that would cause alarm, she slowly opened her eyes and as they became gradually accustomed to the gloom she could make out the shape of a man, dressed in overalls and carrying what looked like a lamp.

She stared. He stared back, before moving silently off to the door. Sensing no threat, the outlaw put her head back down and drifted off to an undisturbed sleep.

The next day she was recounting the tale over breakfast. Her brother in law, speaking a bit of French, had a word with the receptionist and asked if anyone had reported similar goings on.

“All the time, monsieur”, came the slightly unexpected reply.

Turns out that the owners of the truck stop used to employ a guy to indicate parking spots to truckers, who was instantly recognisable due to his sartorial distinctiveness - usually to be found in overalls and carrying a lamp. (Who said the French were fashion icons)? Apparently, he’d been killed a few years ago when a truck reversed over him…
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 4 Jul 2008, 12:11, Reply)