Lifeless bodies began appearing at regular intervals where I grew up in Spring Valley, California. They were typically found decapitated by an unknown sharp object, thought to be from a Samurai sword. Many residents thought a serial killer was on the loose. The police gave no clues. Fear gripped the communities but teens loved to travel the dirt road at night as a dare.
Proctor Valley Road is on a huge stretch of private property and runs a length of 10 miles in Chula Vista, California.
Narrow areas of road, dead man curves, and wild animals seek their prey. The most dangerous part is that teens often turn their headlights off and wind up crashing their cars, injuring themselves and others.
One night we decided to pull a prank on a friend named Leif. We all knew of the dangers of Proctor Valley Road, but like typical teens, one always believes they are ultimately invincible.
At any rate, we loaded up two cars full of us teens, and our hapless victim was clueless as to what was going to unfold. We wagered him $10 he wouldn’t ride in the trunk of one of the cars all the way through the 10-mile stretch. He took the bet.
First of all, we had to siphon gas from an older friend’s Dad’s truck, as we were low on fuel. With that easy feat completed, we drove to the road, four people to one car, three in the trailing car, with an additional one (Leif) in the trunk of the second car.
The prank was to drive half way down the dirt stretch, stop quickly, open the trunk of the second car, after three jumped into the lead car, and then drive off. That would leave our victim alone at midnight when and where the headless horsemen typically left his decapitated victims.
The horsemen roamed the nights seeking whomever he could find, sitting proudly atop a white horse, ever ready to strike his victim with his razor sharp blade.
We drove the rest of the way laughing and betting on whether Leif would poop his pants, lock himself in the trunk, or run for some semblance of cover. The doors were locked on the second car so that option was not on the betting table. The wisdom of the day advised the nobody should ever get out of the car.
Our prank went somewhat sour on us when we got a flat tire at the end of the road. We fixed it within 10 minutes and then proceeded on. We estimated Leif would be stuck alone for a good 45 minutes before we could make the trip back.
Back on Proctor Valley Road, two of us (me included) rode on the hood of the car to demonstrate our bravery, headless horseman be damned. Fools is what we actually were!
Bob W. was driving, and in typical style, turned off the headlights for perhaps 30 seconds. It was a near fatal mistake, for when he turned the headlamps back on, we were at the infamous Dead Man’s Curve.
The car hit part of a sandy hillside and Bob quickly regained control, though nearly sending the rest of the passengers to an almost certain death over a cliff on the right side of the road.
Unfortunately for me and Vic, we were thrown from the hood of the car the moment the Chevy swerved back into control. Vic broke his wrist, I received only some cuts and bruises. Looking back, maybe it also knocked some sense into my head, but that’s another story.
Another problem soon arose. We had forgotten in our excitement exactly where we had dropped Leif off. Holy dog crap! Bob drove slowly as we all peered out the windows in search of the car. Luckily for us, we found it within 10 minutes or so. The problem was that Leif was not in the trunk or anywhere to be found.
We called his name in loud whispers, not wanting to attract the murderous horseman. It never dawned on us how a headless person could hear.
A few guys began to panic. Had the horseman grabbed Leif, sliced his head off and left the body elsewhere? We could all be accomplices to murder if so. We huddled together like a football offense to decide on our next move. One suggested we search the area with a flashlight. We quickly nixed that idea.
Bob, the eldest of us all at 21, decided we’d drive down the road more. Sure enough, the headlights picked up Leif walking down the center of the road. When we whistled for him to get back into the car and head for home, he merely laughed. “Great prank, dudes!”
“How long you been walking, man” I asked.
“Maybe an hour?”
“Alone?”
“No,” he replied sarcastically, "I hitched a ride with the headless horseman, idiot!”
We all headed home and called it a great night of teenage fun.
However, the next morning as I read the San Diego morning paper, another body had been found decapitated along a stretch of Proctor Valley Road.
Was the headless horseman real or was there a serial killer at large? Today the headless horseman legend lives on, and bodies continue to pile up. It’s been thirty years since our forage into the unknown, so it is doubtful an alleged serial killer would still be on the prowl.