The following is based on actual events from our trip to Tennessee.
All summer long, we had been craving a taste of the great outdoors. So one weekend, we finally stepped up, packed our bags and headed out to The Great Smoky Mountains. We filled up our gas, grabbed a snack at McDonald's and plugged in the GPS. Our first stop, a small BBQ restaurant in South Carolina.
A short five hours in and we had already forgotten about Florida as we passed the Welcome to South Carolina state sign. As we drove deeper into the Carolinas, we watched as the trees grew taller, the air grew slightly more crisp and the signs for classic southern sweet tea began to pop up.
Before we knew it, our gaslight popped on and we took the first exit from the highway to fill up. The roads were lined with mossy trees and the late afternoon sun gleamed through the woods. We thought it looked like heaven and drove leisurely past hay bales and small farmhouses. When no gas station came into sight, we rerouted the GPS to the nearest one just a few miles North of where we were.
As we continued on, a few farmers waved at us from our car. “This place is just amazing,” we agreed. Before we knew it, we hit a four-way intersection with small shops on each corner. I looked at the GPS, expecting to be right in range of the gas station when it still said 1.2 miles to go. As the light changed and we drove past the stop, I noticed each shop was abandoned. Some of the windows were boarded, some had the boards broken in and all had long thick cobwebs lining the porches. The one that really got to me though was the smallest red paneled shop with a fallen neon sign that read “The Doll House”. I thought to myself, that’s a bit creepy! And continued to daydream my own little horror story as my boyfriend, Chase, drove the final 1.2 miles.
After trailing through a few more layers of forest and another farmhouse, the destination was on our right. A small white house, with one old-fashioned gas pump, sat alone in a large empty field. An old woman and a middle-aged man watched us from their rocking chairs on the porch as we pulled up. I knew something felt wrong but I pushed my feelings aside when my Chase unlocked the car and stepped out. If he thought it was safe, it probably was.
“Excuse me, Ma’am, does this pump still work?” Chase asked the old woman on the porch. She replied, “We haven’t sold gas here in 20 years boy.” And as she said boy, both the old woman and the man stood up slowly and started walking toward us. We asked if they knew where we could get gas and they looked at each other before replying. “You can try the smokes,”.
“The Smokes?” Chase asked.
“Yes boy”, she replied, “The Smokes. Turn back around and drive down this road about 5 more miles. Everyone goes there, don’t they John?”
John just smiled at her, never looking back in our direction before turning around and heading back to the porch. I began stepping back toward the car and Chase followed. We thanked them, got back in the safety of our truck and shook off any weird feelings. We had no idea where we were, hadn’t seen much of anything in miles and had nowhere else to go. The sun was getting ready to set and we had barely 10 miles left on our gas tank.
So we headed to the Smokes.
