Today we walked as far as the Railway Inn. The cycle/walking path through Clyne valley follows the route of the old mid-Wales train line, hence the Railway Inn at the side.
Many years ago, not-yet-Husband, another friend and I went there for an evening drink. We sat outside and not-yet-Husband told me a story. It was about a car breaking down on a lonely road at night. The man left his wife in the car while he went to get help. She was sitting there when there was a tremendous banging on the roof of the car. She sat petrified as the banging continued and, just as an axe was breaking through, her husband returned in another car, and the mad axe murderer ran off.
Of course, this was a shaggy dog story/urban legend/call it what you will but I didn't know that at the time and not-yet-Husband told it very well - much better and in more graphic detail than I have related it. It was years before I could even drive past the Railway Inn without remembering the story and shuddering.