My Spooky Premonition About a White Car Saved My Life

Me with my first car
The following is one in a series of real-life unexplained stories. Have you ever had an otherworldly encounter? Share in the comments ...

After college I worked in theater and lived back with my parents on Long Island. Then I landed a beautiful sublet in Manhattan from some older, more successful theater person who maybe had a cat or three, and when that person came back from tour, I was back home. This process repeated itself a few times.


During one of my at-home stints, I drove myself into the city nearly every day to whatever stage managing or acting job I'd get, and getting anywhere in the burbs -- even for a quart of milk -- meant driving. I also drove a van for Lincoln Center, when stage managing for educational performances mainly meant getting the dancers or harpist or whatever to the gig, and making sure no banana peels were on the school stage.

Sure I didn't like traffic or Long Island, but I always loved driving.

And then one day, I became inexplicably terrified of white cars.

I was sure a white car was coming for me. There was no dream. No vision. Just the deep belief that it was going to happen.

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I need to say that I'd never suffered from anxiety or mental illness. I did not believe in "woo woo" stuff. I was and am a card-carrying skeptic. So this fear of white cars was worse because I knew it was crazy.

I tried to ignore it, talk it away in my head. But the fear grew. I remember being on the Southern State Parkway, a stone's throw from the ginormous Roosevelt Field Mall, and a white car passed me on the left. There was an empty lane between us -- it was nowhere near -- and I started shaking. Then, every other white car I saw on the road caused the same physical reaction. I knew I'd entered a much deeper state of nuts.

I confided in my best friend. She laughed. Which is exactly what I wanted. I laughed. I thought it might help make the fear evaporate.

It didn't.

So I went to my mother and told her that I thought a white car was coming for me and that I was only telling her because if I was killed by a white car, I wanted her to know that I knew.

My mother didn't laugh. And that's when I knew I was really bonkers. I started crying. She talked to me very calmly in a way someone only talks to the severely unstable about how it wasn't true and I just needed sleep and it would all blow over.

A week passed and it didn't blow over. I'd steel myself when I saw white cars and gripped the wheel harder.

Then on a day off, I was driving on a leafy, windy road on Long Island's North Shore. I'd always head for the hidden parks and patches that are hard to find, and make you forget about all the malls.

Suddenly a car came rocketing down a hill to my right. I only had a second to see it had no intention of using the brakes and I couldn't avoid it hitting me. It was white.

The white sedan crashed into my passenger side and pushed me into the left lane, into oncoming traffic. Then everything went Matrix-like, as it does in accidents. Time seemed to slow down and I saw a van coming at me full speed. A white van. Instead of being scared, my brain said, "WHITE CAR -- SHOWTIME!" and I did an awesome bit of Dukes of Hazzard style driving, stepping on the gas and cutting a nifty fishtail back to the correct side of the road.

I was alive. I was fine. When the guy in the white van came out to see if I was OK, and the shaken teenager in the sedan got out to exchange insurance, they were probably wondering why I, someone who had her passenger's side smashed and who had nearly been mashed, was so chirpy.

The teen was driving with her little brother in the front seat and was only on a learner's permit. Her parents paid for my damage and were amazed I didn't try to take them to the cleaners.

I was just too thrilled to be walking and talking and, after being whacked by a white car and nearly flattened by another, my fear of them disappeared. I had met my white car of doom and beaten it.

My mother, who believed in this kind of stuff, gave me all credit for the spooky premonition and I'll admit I enjoyed that. My best friend laughed, but she too thought that maybe I had seen it coming.

Me? Well, you've got to admit, it is weird, right? Yeah, probably just weird. But if you care to think I'm psychic? Go crazy.

Have you ever had an eerie premonition? Share your real-life ghost story with us. Also read these:

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My 5-Year-Old Daughter Is Psychic & It Freaks Me Out

I Saw REAL Paranormal Activity on My Baby's Video Monitor

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Image via Susie Felber

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