This is a story told to me by my mother, and later grandmother. It’s an incident that my grandmother normally refuses to talk about, and my grandfather will flat out ignore any questions about it. Not a scary story per say, but I also didn’t experience it firsthand.
Now back in the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s my grandparents were avid travelers. My grandfather worked all the time due to the nature of his job. So when he had even two days off of work it was used as vacation time. It wasn’t unusual for them to pack up their kids in a camper and drive out from their home just East of Chicago and out all the way to the Grand Canyon for a couple days (and all without air conditioning!). Driving down south to camp beside lakes or hiking in swamps was nothing unusual for them, and even now I’m always hearing stories of places they ‘just now’ remembered they camped at back in the ‘60s. Social, they had huge parties on holidays at their house and would often take big group trips to go water skiing with just the ‘grown ups’ in the summer. It was on a trip with a couple they were friends with that they would experience something very strange, something that still haunts them.