Weird

When I was about eight I went to Brownies in Ovingham. My friend's Dad used to drive us there from Wylam in his old, old Rolls Royce, an ancient car that he was doing up from scratch: he would work on it at weekends and bank holidays. It was a veteran car, really, and often didn't work but it managed to get us there and back on Tuesdays.
One balmy summer evening I was sitting next to him in the front seat as he drove us there and the window-winding handle beside me started revolving all by itself, and wound the window down right to the bottom.
I sat and watched it, assuming that this was a normal sort of thing in an old car like that.
'How did you do that?' gasped Mr Valentine, 'That handle's been stuck fast ever since I got this car and I haven't been able to move it at all!'.
I hadn't touched it.
Do you think it was a ghost?