Once again, I shrugged and went back to my book. When it happened again, the hairs on my arm stood up. I got it in my head that maybe Ray was at the back of the van, hurt somehow and all he could manage to do was rake the back of the van with something, making that noise to get my attention. What he could be using, I had no idea.

The more I sat there, the more convinced I was, that he was laying back there bleeding to death in the rain while I sat up front reading a mystery.

There was nothing for it, but to investigate.

The front of the van was sheltered and dry, but once you stepped past the first set of doors, you were drenched. So here I was, creeping down the side of the van, getting soaked to the bone.

All the while, every scary story I ever heard and every scary movie I had seen, came to mind. From the old camp fire chestnut about the hook, to the latest movie advertised on TV. Not to mention feeling a bit like Nancy Drew without the flashlight.

I had myself so worked up, that by the time I finally got my courage up to peek around the back of the van to see, I was shaking like a leaf, and not from the cold rain. When I saw nothing there, my legs went all rubbery with relief. But not for long! Because I realized I had to go all the way around the van, just to be sure there was no one or nothing there.

Thinking about crazed serial killers who hide in the back of cars, and raccoons demented by rabies.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Then, gulp, I knew I had to check under the van. Which of course, made my ankles crawl with apprehension of being grabbed. I saw myself getting pulled under there and stabbed with a screwdriver or something equally nasty.

Now why someone would want to do this, I don’t know. And if I could have stopped and thought rationally, I would have saved myself a soaking.

Of course, there was nothing or no one under there. And I KNEW no one had snuck into the van while I was skulking around, because I had kept one eye on the doors at all times. There was nothing left for me to do really, except get back in the van. Which I did.

I got in, and just sat there. Trying to puzzle out what that sound was. I didn’t read. I didn’t turn that light on. I just sat there, staring out of the windshield, thinking.

All of a sudden, it happened again! It took me by such surprise that I literally jumped a few inches off my seat! But this time, because there was no light in my eyes, and I was looking straight ahead, instead of down in my lap, I SAW what was making the noise.

I felt so sheepish. Ray had left the knob turned on the low setting on the wipers. As the front of the van was sheltered, there was very little moisture on the window and when the wipers would make a pass, the dry rubber was making that sound on the windshield! In my defense, the thunder was so loud that it was hard to hear much of anything else, especially when my mind was intent on my book.

I have told no one about my moment of terror, not even Ray. He is finding this out the same time you are, by reading this.

I am not the person you want to be hanging around with on the dark, stormy nights.