Ronald Wildman’s UFO sighting on February 9, 1962, near Aylesbury, England, stands as one of the more intriguing and well-documented encounters of the early 1960s in the United Kingdom. A 35-year-old car delivery driver from Luton, Wildman’s experience on a lonely Buckinghamshire road not only captured the attention of local police but also drew scrutiny from the Royal Air Force’s elite Provost & Security Services (P&SS), hinting at its perceived significance. This incident remains a staple in UFO lore, preserved in declassified files and debated for its mix of physical effects, credible testimony, and official interest.
Wildman’s encounter unfolded in the pre-dawn hours of February 9, 1962, around 3:30 a.m. He was driving a new Vauxhall estate car from the Vauxhall plant in Luton to Swansea, a routine job for the Car Collection Company where he worked. Traveling along the Aston Clinton Road near Aylesbury—a quiet, winding stretch between Ivinghoe and Aston Clinton—he noticed an unusual object ahead. Described as oval-shaped, white, and glowing with a hazy halo, it hovered roughly 20 to 30 feet above the ground and spanned about 40 feet wide. Black markings, possibly portholes or vents, lined its edge, visible in the reflection of his headlights. As he approached at 40 miles per hour, an unseen force slowed his car to 20 miles per hour over 400 yards, despite his efforts to maintain speed. The object then accelerated sharply toward Aylesbury, dislodging frost from nearby treetops that fell onto his windshield, and his car regained power as it departed.
Shaken, Wildman drove straight to Aylesbury police station to report what he’d seen. Two officers initially met him with skepticism, offering him coffee to calm his nerves during a 20-minute stop. After an hour of questioning, however, they grew convinced of his sincerity—he was sober, visibly rattled, and not prone to flights of fancy, as his wife later vouched, saying “he’s not the imaginative type.” The police logged the incident in their Station Occurrence Book, though no formal report was filed. Wildman then continued his journey to Swansea, but the story didn’t end there. Local press picked it up, sparking public interest, and within a week, the event reached the Ministry of Aviation (predecessor to the Ministry of Defence).
On February 16, 1962, at 3:30 p.m., Sergeant C.J. Perry of the RAF’s P&SS visited Aylesbury police to investigate. His report, now public in the National Archives at Kew, details Wildman’s account: an oval object, 40 feet wide, emitting a fluorescent glow, hovering 30 feet up, slowing his car via an unknown force before speeding off. Perry interviewed Sergeant Schofield and a constable, both of whom stood by Wildman’s credibility, noting he was “obviously shaken” and his story consistent. The P&SS, a unit typically tasked with counterespionage and terrorism threats within the RAF, rarely dealt with civilian UFO claims, suggesting the Ministry saw this as more than a trivial tale. Their involvement hints at concern—perhaps over airspace security or the object’s technological implications—though no conclusive findings emerged.
The physical effects set Wildman’s sighting apart. His car’s unexplained deceleration, the frost on his windshield, and the timing of power restoration as the object fled suggest an interaction beyond mere hallucination. Ufologists point to these as evidence of an electromagnetic influence, a recurring theme in UFO reports of the era, like the 1957 Levelland, Texas, case where vehicles stalled near a glowing object. The Ministry of Aviation, however, offered a mundane explanation via the Daily Telegraph: a low cloud illuminated by Wildman’s headlights. Critics scoff at this—clouds don’t hover 20 feet up, slow cars, or shoot off at high speed, nor do they match his detailed description of an oval craft with markings.
Wildman’s background bolsters his reliability. A motor mechanic and delivery driver, he was practical, not a dreamer, living at 42 St. Margaret’s Avenue, Luton, with no history of seeking attention. The press frenzy and official probe likely thrust him into a spotlight he didn’t crave. Declassified files from 1962 to 1964, including newspaper clippings and Flying Saucer Review articles, preserve his story alongside the broader UFO wave of the time—1962 saw other UK sightings, like Aer Lingus pilot Gordon Pendleton’s report of a wingless object over Somerset. Yet, Wildman’s case stands out for its solitary witness, physical traces, and RAF scrutiny.
Skeptics argue it could’ve been a misidentified aircraft, a meteorological quirk, or even a hoax, though the police and Perry found no deceit. The Air Ministry’s cloud theory strains credulity given the specifics—40-foot-wide clouds with portholes don’t fly off at speed. A secret military craft is plausible, given Cold War testing, but no records confirm such a project near Aylesbury then. The lack of other witnesses, due to the early hour, weakens corroboration, yet Wildman’s immediate report to police strengthens his case over later embellishments.
The sighting’s legacy endures in UFO circles. Archived in Kew’s National Archives, it’s a public relic of a time when “flying saucers” gripped the imagination post-Kenneth Arnold’s 1947 sighting. On X in 2025, users still debate it—some call it a “classic close encounter,” others a “headlight trick.” No photos or wreckage surfaced, and Wildman faded from view, leaving a story that’s neither proven nor fully debunked. It’s a snapshot of 1960s unease—space race fervor, nuclear fears, and a sky full of questions—captured by a man who just wanted to deliver a car.
