"There's a patch of highway in eastern Utah that's pretty infamous for bad shit," Dib explained, taking another sip of his beer. "Way back in the day, when the highway was called route 66, there were a bunch of branch highways off of it, and this one just so happens to be the sixth branch. Think about it."
He popped a fry into his mouth and continued, and the tone in his voice was a mix of excitement and interest, "All sorts of things are reported there, and I mean, it's a laundry list of bad shit. Phantom trucks, skin walkers, hell hounds, White Ladies. It's like the grab bag of every horror story you've ever heard about the road, all packed into about a hundred miles of desolate desert highway. People have reported jumping ahead 40 miles in no time at all, or missing hours of time between only ten miles, phantom riders in the back seat with them, ghost shamans, UFOs, pretty much everything. Now, I don't know about you, but that sounds like something I want to check out. Preferably with someone even more experienced than I am. I'm sure Dean's already dealt with every single one of those things, but all at once? Yeah, I'm really not going to do anything without hunter backup."