Uber Horror Stories | Real Late Night Rides Gone Wrong

These true Uber horror stories will make you think twice before your next late-night rideshare.

In this chilling video, we dive into two terrifying real encounters that prove danger can come when you least expect it:

🚘 Story 1: After a fun night with friends, a woman gets into what she thinks is her Uber—until the red flags start to pile up...
🚧 Story 2: A driver accepts a late-night pickup in Gary, Indiana, only to discover her passenger may be unlike any she's ever met before.

If you love true scary stories, r/letsnotmeet-style tales, or paranormal rideshare encounters, this one’s for you. Get ready for eerie vibes, suspenseful storytelling, and a reminder that the scariest stories are often the true ones.

🕛 Best watched at night. 
👁️ Inspired by true events.
👍 Like, comment, and subscribe for more real horror stories every week.

Enjoy via Youtube: https://youtu.be/tVN4cVEYbOQ

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:05):
It was Saturday night and me, Tasha and Live had
just left this party in the hills like bougie house pool,
glowing neon. Half the guys there pretending to be Djays.
I was wearing my glitter halter and these ridiculous heels.
I always regret the ones that make you feel like

(00:28):
a bratstall, but also like you have about three minutes
before your ankles snap. We were standing on the curb outside, buzzed, laughing,
screaming about nothing, and waiting for our rides. My app
said the driver was in a black Honda Civic, license

(00:48):
plate eight f x L something something whatever. Ten minutes
pass and the exact car pulls up, black Civic, same model.
I glanced at the plate, but it was dark and
the tail lights made everything hard to see. I was like, okay,
that's me, Love you bitches, text me when you get home.

(01:11):
And I air kissed every one good bye and climbed
into the car. It smelled like sweat and old fast food.
There were empty water bottles everywhere on the front seat,
the floor, door pockets, and at least three crumpled Carl's
Junior bags in the back. I cleared a spot to

(01:33):
buckle my seat belt and it was sticky. The driver
didn't say anything, not even high, not confirming my name.
He just started driving. And he was weird looking, with
patchy scruff and a hoodie pulled half way over his face.

(01:54):
Feeling uncomfortable, I said, how's your night been so far?
And he didn't answer. He just kept driving. Then, and
I swear to God, my phone buzzies. It's an unknown number,
but for some reason I decide to answer. It was

(02:17):
a guy on the other end. Hi, it's your Uber driver.
I'm outside. I froze, full body ice cold terror. I
pretended like I couldn't hear, and he said, Kelly, where
should I pick you up. I turned and looked at
the man driving. Stop the car. I said, you're not

(02:41):
my Uber. He pressed harder on the gas. We were
on Sunset, turning onto some side street, way darker and
way emptier. I started screaming, stop the fucking car, let
me out. He locked the door. I heard them click,

(03:03):
and that's when I really lost it. I started kicking
the back of his seat, trying over and over to
open the door, but the childlocks were on. I called
live and screamed into the phone. Call the police, I'm
in the wrong car. The driver turned around and looked
at me like he was annoyed, and that's when I

(03:26):
saw he was holding a knife, serrated like a kitchen knife,
not a switchblade. I unbuckled and threw myself toward the front,
grabbing the steering wheel with one hand and the gear
shift with the other, screaming like a maniac. He swerved
hard and pulled over to stop me. I was able

(03:49):
to unlock the passenger door and roll out onto the sidewalk,
scratched and crying but alive. He sped off before anyone
could get plate. Some people that heard me screaming came
over to help. I ended up going to the hospital
with some bruises and a busted knee. The cops told

(04:12):
me that there had been several other reports like that
lately of someone pretending to be an uber driver targeting
young girls, so now I don't take rides alone anymore. Ever,
I checked the license plate three times before getting in,
and I always ask the driver to confirm our names,

(04:36):
because if I hadn't gotten that call, if my real
driver hadn't dialed me right then, I don't think I
would have been able to tell you this story. So

(04:57):
this took place last winter. I was driving for uber
Alot right. It was January, I think, cold enough to
freeze your eyelids shut if you blinked too slow. I
had started driving nights because the money was better, less traffic,

(05:20):
more serge pricing, and the bar crowd always tips better
after they've been drinking. But late at night you end
up seeing things and hearing things, and sometimes picking up
something you wish you hadn't. That Friday night started normal.

(05:44):
I was driving a little blue Nissan Versa, nothing fancy,
but she ran good. I had a thermis of coffee
in the cup holder and a gospel station humming low
on the radio, just enough to keep me company. Around
one forty five a m I got a ping from

(06:04):
the little dive bar on Fifth Avenue, Tommy's Tap I
think it's called. It was a real crusty place, probably
hadn't changed anything since the nineteen seventies, the kind of
bar with flickering neon signs and that damp old carpet
smell that reaches your nose from the parking lot. I

(06:30):
pull up outside and there's this woman standing on the
curb alone. No one else leaving the bar. No bouncer
at the door, just her. She had on a long
black coat that brushed against her ankles, but didn't wear
a hat or gloves. She was just standing there with

(06:52):
her arms at her sides, staring down at the sidewalk.
If I had to guess, I would have thought she
was thinking really hard about something sad. I rolled down
the window and said, you call for an uber. She
didn't look at me, she didn't nod. She just walked over,

(07:17):
opened the back door and got inside. How's it going,
I said, Still, no words, just a voice from the app,
a robotic voice it uses when riders are unable or
unwilling to talk. It confirmed the location, Delaware Street, nineteen

(07:39):
thirty five, Delaware, Apartment three O two. The woman was
sitting straight up, her hands folded neatly on her lap,
and she was just staring at the back of my head.
When I looked back at the rear view mirror, there
was no one, no reflection. I could see her in

(08:04):
the back seat just fine with my eyes, plain as day,
but it seemed like her skin didn't catch the light right.
She sort of looked like a photo that had been
left in the sun. Too long. But in the mirror
all I saw was the empty back seat. Now I

(08:26):
ain't no fool. I thought maybe it was just a
weird angle, or the mirror needed cleaning, maybe my eyes
were playing tricks. But my gut felt heavy, and it
stayed that way for the whole ride. We headed down Broadway,
turning on to twenty first, and I started making the

(08:48):
way toward Delaware. That area was nice once back in
the day, but not anymore now. It's block after blood
of half burned houses and boarded up windows. The street lights,
which were few and far between, barely lit up enough

(09:10):
to light up the ground below. As we got closer,
I realized we were heading to the old Camden Apartments.
It was a brick building near the old grocery store
that shut down. The place had been boarded up for years,
I mean condemned. No one lives there anymore, But sure enough,

(09:37):
the GPS said that was the destination, nineteen thirty five, Delaware.
I slowed down and said, ma'am, you sure that's the
right address, And that's when she finally spoke for the
first and only time. Yes, she said, real quiet, and

(10:01):
her voice, I'll never forget it. It was so flat,
so tired. I pulled up to the curb, and she
opened the car door and stepped out. I swear to
you on everything I love. When her foot hit the pavement,
the air changed, the trees around us stopped rustling, and

(10:27):
even the car engine seemed to quiet down. She walked
directly toward the building, without stumbling, without nerves, totally calm.
The front door was hanging half off the hinges, and
I swore that it creaked open on its own before

(10:49):
she reached it. And then she slipped inside, and that
was it. She never looked back at me. I sat there,
stunned for maybe thirty seconds or maybe five minutes. I
know it was long enough for my breath to fog

(11:10):
up the windows. I suddenly started to worry that maybe
she was confused or had taken something, and that I
needed to make sure that she was all right. So
I quickly stepped out of the car and walked about
half way up to the front door, calling hey, ma'am

(11:30):
you all right. There was no answer, no movement, nothing
at all. There was only darkness inside that busted old
doorway that seemed to have swallowed her up. Now here's
when it gets really messed up. I went back to

(11:53):
the car, pulled up the Uber app to mark the
ride complete, but the trip was gone, completely gone. It
was like it never happened. I stared at my phone
for a good five minutes, refreshing over and over restarting it,

(12:14):
trying to find the ride, but it wasn't there. My
car was still as cold as ice inside. The next day,
I told this guy I know who works for the
city code office about what happened. He's seen some stuff too,

(12:35):
so I thought he might know something. And when I
mentioned the address, his face got real. Still, you ain't
the first person to see something over there, he said.
Turns out, back in twenty eleven, a woman was found
dead in that very building. She oh deed alone. She

(13:01):
was back there for days before anyone found her, no family,
not even an ID. She had been found squatting in
apartment three O two. They say she could be seen
at that same bar every once in a while on

(13:22):
a Friday night. She would always sit at the same
stool and always leave around closing. Some people swore they
saw her walking down Delaware long after she died. But
those were just stories, at least I used to think

(13:42):
so and let me tell you something that still really
makes my skin crawl. Weeks later, I had the back
seat detailed cleaned from top to bottom, vacuumed, shampooed, the works,
but the guy doing it stopped halfway through and called

(14:02):
me over. He showed me a patch under the seat
belt buckle on the passenger side and said it looked
like somebody had burned something there. It was a perfect
oval of scorched fabric, like the end of a cigarette
had been held against it. But I had no idea

(14:24):
when it could have happened, and there had never been
any smell. I switched to driving during the day after that,
and I stopped picking up riders near Tommy's. And to
this day, if I drive past those apartments, even just

(14:45):
passing by, not even stopping, I swear my car gets cold,
like cold. I can feel it in my bones. Sometimes
when I check the rear view mirror, I wonder if
I'll see her sitting back there, but I never do.

(15:09):
So let me tell you now, if you're ever driving
alone at night around Gary, Indiana, and you get a
request to Delaware Street, ignore it. She's already home.