Encounter with the Route 732 Phantom

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window."

Oh! This is going to be a good one, Trini thought, as she sat the latest edition of Haunted Ohio aside. It was well into her first year at Miami University and Trini Tammen had settled in nicely. If you had asked anyone who knew her before Miami whether the sophisticated young New Yorker would take to the rural Midwest, the answer would have been a solid “No”. Still, Oxford with all its red brick and ivy charm had wormed its way into her heart.

Before she could walk or talk, Trini’s dad, John, had been regaling her with tales and taking her to architectural sites all around the world visiting the places that had inspired various aspects of his academic work. As an expert in both architecture and mythological studies, Professor Tammen had a truly unique perspective on the world. From grand vistas to the deepest, darkest, cenotes, their explorations inspired Trini. She grew up with an adventurous spirit, and early on she knew she wanted to be just like her father.

Being a freshman in the Western Studies program, allowed Trini to immerse herself in a plan of study that combined her love of history, mythology, and ghost hunting. Trini had had to fight hard to include the ghost hunting, but in the end, she was able to convince her faculty advisor that her methodology would be based in science and potentially offer alternative explanations to many of the same questions the myths and legends she was researching sprang from.

Ghost hunting was the fun part. Trini and her friends had explored many a ghost of the Hudson, not to mention more abandoned factories, power plants, and tenement buildings than most. NYC was rife with places to explore the unexplainable, so trying to decipher the myths and legends tied to her new home state and sleepy college town seemed like the natural way to go.

She delved into local history and legends, discovering the University’s penchant for creating dorms from former asylums and why the road between Oxford and Cincinnati was dotted with little white crosses that marked the Highway to Heaven. After dogearing her copy of the Miami Years, Trini decided her favorite local legend was the Oxford light, aka the phantom motorcyclist, aka, the Oxford ghost light. The story had way too many names but the idea of exploring a haunted road really appealed to her. The local legend is essentially a modern take on Romeo and Juliet.

It goes like this. Van Tassel was a prosperous local farmer with one child, his daughter Katrina. She was madly in love with her boyfriend, a local boy named Jesse. Tall, lanky and taciturn, Jesse was considered a bit of a miscreant Not fond of authority and coming from a family of modest means, Jesse didn’t standout or make himself particularly amenable to anyone in their small community except Katrina. Worst of all, He spent most of his free time roaring around the county on his beloved Hessian motorcycle.

Farmer Tassel did what he could to discourage the romance. Eventually, Jesse was forced to only visit Katrina late at night or early in the morning while the rest of their rural community was sleeping. The couple set up a secret signal. Katrina would flash the porch light three times to signal Jesse that it was safe for him to come by and pick her up.

Finally, one autumn evening, Jesse, sick of sneaking around and determined to make Katrina his forever love waited for the signal. Nervous, about proposing he downed one after another of the six pack he brought with him to AMP up his courage. Finally, the porchlight flashed. Jesse jumped on his trust Hessian 1 and roared down the road to Katrina’s.

Jesse was in such a hurry he didn’t see Farmer Tassel’s pickup truck coming from the opposite direction until it was too late to do anything except crash or swerve. He swerved, missing the truck but hitting a rock in the road. Tires spinning, he missed the curve, lost control of his bike, and flew headfirst into a barbwire fence.

For most of us, that would a tragic end to a tragic story, but not even death could get in the way of Jesse’s love. An urban legend was born that day, because missing his head did not deter the smitten cyclist. Locals say that to this day, Jesse is still trying to reach Katrina’s house to pop the question...

I wonder. Is he still trying? That was the question Trini hoped to solve as she sat on her motorcycle late one spring evening. She needed to see for herself. Setting aside time to investigate during spring break seemed like a good idea at the time. Trini had failed to consider that with most of the folks she knew would be gone and she would be doing a solo investigation. That part didn’t bother her so much but doing said investigation in drizzly fog late at night was less than ideal. It wasn’t even 11 pm, but it seemed like it could be 3 or 4 in the morning.

Still, if she skipped tonight, that would only give her four more nights of break to investigate.

She loaded up her favorite pink backpack as she mumbled to herself, Flashlight? Check. EMF meter? Check. Digital recorder? Check. Mini first aid kit. Check. until she had everything she might need. Then, following in the path of many before her, Trini took Route 732 north out of Oxford…

If the legend was true, Trini was going to see a white light coming toward her from across the hills at a high speed. It was dark. And the fog was making visibility poor. Although, Trini though, maybe that will make it easier to see anything there might be to see. After ten minute or so of nothing, Trini started the 20-minute trek back home. Undeterred. Trini planned to try again the next night.

There second night went much like the first, drizzle included. The wet weather sucked, but the no car on campus policy ensured that a vehicle other than her trusty Indian motorcycle was out of the question. At least it’s better than a Vespa, Trini thought to herself.

Sometimes we feel the need to press our luck, even when it seems some roads might be better left untraveled.

On the third night Trini approached her watch spot, it was tucked between a corn field and a facing Earhart Road, she was surprised to see another cyclist. She had hoped to encounter others interested the phantom phenomena but expected them to be in the relative safety of a car. She would be, given the option.

If being alone with a stranger on a country road late at night with just air and two motorcycles between her and her new companion bothered her, Trini didn't show it. Instead, she introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Katrina Tammen. Call me Trini”. The biker gave a small wave and said, "Jesse". He waited a beat and then he flashed his light. They sat together in companionable silence and waited. And waited a bit more. Nothing happened. "Guess tonight's not our night", Trini said as she turned her bike around and headed back toward town. A few minutes later, Jesse did the same.

Even in the silence If the night, the low rumble of the bikes was too loud for random small talk, so she wasn’t surprised he didn’t talk much. But something felt off. He was right next to her now, but he was eerily quiet. She didn’t exactly sense menace or danger, but she sensed something was off kilter with her new friend.

When Trini reached a spot where the road that was less twisty, she had a moment to really look at her new companion. Then she did a doubletake. He wasn’t just missing his helmet, he seemed to be missing a head! Realizing her new companion was much more than another ghost hunter, Trini picked up speed.

The cyclist, she refused to think of him as Jesse, kept pace, and began actively pursuing her. Reaching the road along the corn field, Trini know she only had to go about ¼ mile or so to reach the 732 intersection. She had never heard of the ghost crossing the intersection, so Trini hoped that if she could just get through the intersection, she might be safe.

Several things happened all at once. Trini was in such a hurry she almost missed the pickup truck coming towards her. It was crash or swerve. She swerved missing the truck. She would have made it across, but her slight loss of momentum brought the cyclist close enough to throw his helmet at her, severed head and all. It knocked her totally off course and Trini and her Indian went tumbling headlong into the ditch.

Later that night and for the next few days it rained. Hard. Proverbial cats and dogs. That first day after spring break ended a student driving back from home found a pink backpack abandoned on the side of the road. They found Trini Tammen a few days later further down the road in the ditch beside the cornfield. Her neck broken and her crumpled bike partially on top of her. The heavy rain had washed away all evidence of the skid marks. Trini had earned a little white cross of her own.

It seems Jess had been looking for his love in the wrong place. Now he had a new chance…

These days, local college students and other town visitors still frequent the area at night in hopes of encountering the ghost of the decapitated cyclist. Truth is, no one see the headlight anymore, or if they do, they claim it’s not one, but two. The locals have begun to tell a new tale. They say, some nights if you listen closely, especially if it’s been raining, you just might hear Jesse and Trini roaring up and down the deserted country roads together, her on her Indian and him on his trusty Hessian One.