It was dark,

dark, late.

A young man drove alone on a desolate mountain road.

A low hum from the stereo was his only company.

The glow of the headlights broke the darkness. He drove

slowly. The road changed quickly with sharp curves. To his left was the mountain. to his right, little more than a foot or two of gravel and a steep drop below.

The elevation climbed, his car climbed with it, and the young man wondered if he'd see her that night, the woman who sparked nearly a century of legends.

He was about to give up, he'd been driving two hours already, so late in the evening the clock

turned over to the next day.

The last credible sighting was over 50 years ago. What made him think he'd get lucky and catch a glimpse of the woman in white?

He saw a turn off ahead and decided to pull over, stretch his legs and call it a night.

He chastised himself for this fool's errand.

He should be home sleeping.

In just a few hours he'd be up again

readying himself for work. In his mind he saw himself telling the guys in the kitchen

about his adventure along the Buckhorn Road, realizing there was no story to tell.

There was no woman in white, at least not that night,

wandering the mountains of Pennsylvania.

The young man opened his car door, slid down onto the driver's seat. He started the engine and reached for his stereo, turned up the volume. He needed something to keep him

awake for the ride back to his home on the other side of Altoona. He knew he was the only

car on the road. He hadn't seen anyone else in close to an hour.

But that didn't stop him from checking his mirrors. The side mirrors, the rearview, on the rare

...