Bob Stratton tells of driving home from work in Lordstown when a thunderstorm rolled up:

“One of the fellas in the car said, ‘Hey, the car behind us is sure coming comin’ up fast with its brights on.’

“It was no car. It was rolling lightnin’ that hit us.”

They drove on to a diner. “I smell something singed,” the waitress said.

“If that’s all it is, we’re lucky,” they laughed, and then told her what had happened.

Several weeks later, stopping there during another storm, the waitress was now telling them their story.

“You must not recognize us,” they laughed. “We’re the fellas it happened to.”