For starters, the driveway is haunted.
When we moved into this house, forty-three years ago, we discovered the driveway makes odd noises. We can hear tires on the gravel, doors slamming, and sometimes a woman’s high heels clicking along the sidewalk. Whichever dog we have at the time will bark madly and run to the door.
Nobody there. There has never been anybody there. Very mysterious.
The funny thing is that when we do have company, we seldom hear them arrive. Beats me.
In addition, there seems to be a secret signal to let other drivers know when we are coming. It doesn’t matter if I am driving, or The Squire, if we are coming home or leaving, if we are turning right or left, cars come out of nowhere. The road can be clear for miles in either direction, but let us try to get out in the morning, and a dozen cars will appear and slow down as they near our turn. When we have been shopping, and have ice cream rapidly melting into the back seat – whoosh! Four cars and a semi will barrell down the hill.
The Squire claims all those other vehicles are from North Carolina, just trying to help. When we go down to visit his family, we always know when we have crossed the state line. In the far distance, we will see a car, sitting at the end of a driveway. We are the only vehicle coming in either direction, and that driver will wait until we are almost on top of them and then pull out directly in front of us. He says it’s been that way since he was a teenager, just leaving to drive.
He tells me, quite seriously, that some of those folks actually have to go back to the house. “Maw, I couldn’t get out of the drive. There weren’t nobody comin’.”
thisendoftheswamp 
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