The Hairy Hands of Dartmoor

Picture this: You’re driving along the narrow misty moonlit moors. It’s a dark, cold night. All of a sudden, the steering wheel or handlebars are grabbed by a gruesome pair of grotesque, hairy, calloused hands that are inhumanly strong and do their best to fight you for control of your car. 

That’s a story that’s been repeated many times since the first incident in 1921 when a Dartmoor Prison guard was killed as his motorcycle went out of control and crashed. The tale was related by his children who were riding in the sidecar. All they heard was their father shouting at them to get off the bike and apparently wrestling with the steering. They jumped clear and survived. Their dad did not. 

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