Like most B roads, the Seaham Road was more busy with traffic than with passersby, so I slipped into the Copt Hill Inn to see if they knew anything about the ghost. There was a warm welcome when I entered and everyone present was most interested. But a ghostly White Lady nearby? Nobody had heard of her.
“There is a phantom cyclist, though”, volunteered one drinker who gave every appearance of being a regular. “Not seen him myself, but you do hear stories. Seems he rides his bike up this hill really slowly, then suddenly pulls out in front of oncoming cars. Of course, the driver slams the brakes on or swerves. Most think they have hit the cyclist and hop out to see if he needs an ambulance. But there is never anyone there. It’s just a ghost like. Well, you know. That’s the story.”
from "Haunted Sunderland" by Rupert Matthews.
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