Ever had a ghost passenger? One misty night, I picked up a fare from an old train station. A gentleman in a vintage suit slid into the backseat, tipping his hat politely. He asked to be taken to an address I didn't recognize, but I punched it into the GPS anyway. As we drove, he shared stories of steam engines and bustling platforms. When we arrived, I turned around to find the seat empty, just a faint smell of cigar smoke lingering. The address? An abandoned rail yard. I checked my rearview mirror, half expecting to see him wave goodbye.