Did you miss me? 🙂 I hope so, because I missed you. Here’s a funny story about me, the Hayesville police, and almost being labeled a serial killer.
The trek from Winston-Salem, North Carolina to small-town Hayesville, North Carolina is approximately four hours and four minutes. In mileage terms, Google maps says it’s 245.7 miles. For reasons outside of my control, i.e. hunger and other *mhm* necessities, it took me about five hours total to reach my grandparents house.
Before this weekend, I hadn’t seen either of them since the first of July last year. Since then my grandfather has been diagnosed with a blood disease that’s one bad sneeze away from Leukemia, and he’s lost fifty pounds.
Suffice it to say that life has changed a little bit since the last time I was able to wrap my arms around their necks.
I tried to make it to their house a few months ago, but fell ill a day or two beforehand. Due to the nature of his disease, any kind of sickness, albeit a slight cold or sniff, can potentially kill him. It broke my heart, but I stayed home.
It worked out for both parties for me to make my way out there this weekend and help them with some much needed yard work. Trees were shedding their branches, the grass refused to stop growing, and pollen covered every inch of their front porch. Leave it up to Super-Matty to come rescue them from their proverbial Serengeti!
90% of the
four five hour journey was uneventful. I lost my voice singing along to rock cd’s. I called my dad and told him about my latest crisis. I ate Zaxby’s, which is, in my opinion, better than Chik-Fil-A. Sorry if I offended anyone.
Until, however, I reached the quaint town of Hayesville, North Carolina. Before I tell you what happened, let me share some information about the ‘ville.
It’s a town smaller than the back of my thumb. Don’t believe me? According to the 2014 census, Hayesville had a population of about, hmm…Let’s see…
Yeah. At the rate my parents are adopting children, I’ll have that many siblings by next year.
It’s tiny. In fact, it’s so tiny that the local townspeople, i.e. my grandma, were none too pleased when they began construction on a new McDonalds. She was afraid that the new business meant the privacy of the town was going to the dump.
Speaking of the dump…
That’s a past-time for individuals taking up residency in the ‘ville. Bored? Seen all of the mountains you can handle?
To the dump!
It’s also thirty minutes to the closest Wal-Mart and Long John Silver’s.
All kidding aside, it’s a gorgeous little town situated in the Blue Ridge Mountains. No matter where you stand, you can see the peaks of the Smokey’s. If you’re looking for a quiet getaway, Hayesville is your place. Just don’t tell my grandmother you’re coming. She doesn’t like tourists.
All of that said, you would never expect me to have experienced what I’m about to tell you.
Here I am driving down I-64 at 11pm. I was two miles away from my grandparent’s house. I’m driving along, minding my own business, when I notice a car pull off of a side road and join me on said interstate.
No big deal. Happens all of the time.
I’m driving along and I get a text from my grandmother asking me where I was. Forgive me, but I took two seconds to type “2 min” and I put the phone back down. In the meantime, I must have swerved a little bit. Nothing too crazy.
To add on to this, my GPS was on the seat next to me because I didn’t have a suction cup-thingey to keep it on the windshield. I would glance down every once in a while to see where I was going. Apparently my head and hands are inter-connected because as I would turn my head, my hands would pull the wheel along with it.
All of that to say, I wasn’t swerving like a maniacal drunk. The area is mountainous and there are a lot of turns, some coming quicker than you would expect. Normal stuff.
I’m about a half mile from my turn when I realize said car from earlier has pulled up on me a little bit. I figured it was nothing; though I did have my suspicion of it being a cop. Either way, I slowed down a little bit (wasn’t speeding) and prepared for my turn.
My turn approaches and I do my thing. Meanwhile, said car behind me takes the same turn…
Out of all of the turns this car would have made, it was the one down a dark, unknown road on a mountain.
My murderer alarm went crazy.
Yes, I have one of those.
The next turn I had to make was coming up in .2 miles and I wanted to see if my suspicions were correct. I gained a little bit of speed and prepared to swerve onto the next road as if to lose my newfound stalker.
They followed me.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I became even more worried when the blue flashing lights went off.
Here I am trying to be Mr. Fast and Furious with a cop. Real smart.
I pulled over on this dark, unknown road in the middle of the mountains, still slightly worried. Unfortunately, the happenings of our world make being pulled over a little more worrisome than they should be. I digress.
“Good evening sir. I pulled you over just to make sure you were o.k. You swerving a little bit and wanted to make sure you weren’t falling asleep.”
Pretty sure I peed myself out of relief.
“Oh! No, no, I’m great. Thank you! After you followed me on the first turn I thought you were stalking me. I didn’t know it was the cops.”
Yeah. I said that to a police officer. *facepalm*
“No worries, sir. Can I see some identification? You know, to make sure you’re not a serial killer?”
“Uhh, yeah, absolutely! No problem.”
Said officer disappears for a few moments and I began to question every inch of my existence. Was I a serial killer? Did I have some unknown past that I didn’t know about?
She walked back to the car and handed me my I.D.
“Well, good news! You’re not a serial killer. Have a good evening.”
To be honest, that was the most encouraging piece of news I had heard all day.
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