Here's an interesting story from Indiana. Yep, you can use my name if you want to call me

Kelly, and that's the name on the email. Hi, Cam, this is a short story, so here it goes.

All right, here we go. I'm telling you this story because it's absolutely true it's not a

saskatch story or ghost story but it's very strange nonetheless i grew up in southern indiana in the late

70s and early 80s most people probably think of corn and beanfields when thinking of Indiana, and that's mostly true.

But southern Indiana has some great rolling hills.

It was 1984 in the forecast call for six inches of snow.

My buddies and I knew we wouldn't have school the next day, so we planned on going out in a friend's four-wheel drive Bronco after finding someone to get us some liquid refreshments we headed out to

what we call the virgin roading this is when you cruise the back roads and

find roads where the snow hasn't been driven on and after hour or so of riding we had to take a nature call my

buddy was on somewhat of a main road out in the stick so he pulled off to the side of the

road for some privacy and after we finished up our business we saw tire tracks in

the snow leading down the road the tires were pretty narrow and it looked

like they were about three feet apart. We found this was strange, but it was going down this road

just fine. We popped over a small hill and we found ourselves driving right into a graveyard.

There was no other way out so we we started to turn around, and it was here that we noticed

the tire tracks had stopped.

There was absolutely no way the tire tracks could follow the exact path back out, and we noticed

that there wasn't a bare spot where a car had been sitting or footprints that

had gotten out of the car to leave. There was also no wind so the snow couldn't have blown

over the spot where it had been sitting or the footprints covered up. Yes, we had been drinking,

but we were not out of our minds drunk yet.

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