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Tracy Masters
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Collision in the I-4 Dead Zone There’s a quarter-mile of highway in Sanford, Florida, known as the “I-4 Dead Zone.” It’s the part of Interstate 4 that stretches across the St. Johns River. For decades, it’s been the site of countless crashes and chilling stories. The lore traces back to 1887, when a German immigrant colony was wiped out by yellow fever. The dead were buried on that very land, and when the interstate was constructed in the 1960s, their graves were paved over. Ever since, drivers have reported ghostly apparitions, phantom trucks, strange malfunctions, and accidents at an unusually high rate. Yesterday, we became part of that story. A van trailing behind us drifted into the guardrail — its driver likely asleep at the wheel. Startled, he overcorrected and smashed into our rear driver’s quarter panel. The hit spun our vehicle in a perfect 360-degree arc, a real-life PIT maneuver at highway speed. Airbags deployed. The world blurred. When we stopped, breathless and bruised, the van had rolled into the ditch and lay wrecked among the palmettos. Some call it coincidence. Others say it’s the curse of the Dead Zone. Standing there on the shoulder, watching smoke curl from the wreckage, it was impossible not to feel the weight of the legend. We survived. Not everyone does.
