Start:
End:
Mileage: 234 miles
Route taken: Route 1 to
Interstate 26, exit at
Here was the quandary that greeted me as I began my day.
The outer bands of Hurricane Ophelia were whipping towards
If I hustled I could probably outrun it. The storm was moving
northeast and I was traveling southwest. Our paths would intersect more
the
later it got.
My problem was this was the only state, well
It wasn’t for anything more than a traffic citation, but my
attempts to pay it were spurned and so I took the gamble.
That made speeding a far more dubious obstacle than a fine.
It meant I was going to ruin my streak of staying out of jail.
I hate rain and I hate windy rain even more. So I figured I
would press my luck and hit the throttle on the bike.
It was definitely a gamble. As I was speeding down Highway 1,
the thought of that warrant definitely kept my eyes open.
In 1999 I was covering the U.S. Open for the newspaper I was
working for and was traveling from
I was guilty and had every intention of paying the ticket
when I got home. I got the notice in the mail and on it was in bold
letters
that said, “No checks or credit cards accepted.”
So I called and told them my situation and they didn’t care,
and I wasn’t about to buy a money order. Then the stubborn German in me
came
out and I said, “What, you don’t have any banks in that cousin-humping
state of
yours?”
Probably not the A answer, I know, but it seemed appropriate
at the time. So I was going to make a stand and send a check. I sent
the check
with a note that says this is how I am paying the ticket. Well they
sent it
back un- cashed, so I guess they don’t have any banks. I’m not sure
about the
relations between cousins, however.
Because of my smart aleck response, I am in the last year
before the statute runs out on the warrant and subsequently I am
dodging
troopers for the next four hours as I drive through
All is well and I am approaching Pinehurst, the scene of my
earlier sins, when I see a site that reminds me I am in the south.
A
chain gang was working on the side of the highway. They don’t actually
wear
chains, but are under the supervision of two guards, one of whom is
toting a
shotgun.
I
took a quick picture before the guard started walking my way to chase
me off.
The prisoners didn’t seem to mind it. They enjoyed seeing the bike and
I got a
few ways.
That
is definitely one of the scenes that gives the south a bad reputation.
The
other is the confederate flag. I have seen them as decals in the back
of
trucks, flying under American flags outside of houses and on t-shirts.
To
some in the south the Civil War is still being fought. Don’t ever say
Civil War
to a redneck. It is the war of northern aggression.
I
learned that when I was in the
“You
from
I
was going to ask about the confederate flag and other topics, but
decided I
would wait for two more gentleman that had a slightly higher I.Q. than
a pair
of peach pits.
It
is the one thing that disturbs about the South. Racism still exists and
I have
never understood the hatred that is bred and passed down. The word
nigger is
freely used and the contempt for blacks and the stereotypes that are
thrown
around in casual conversation is astounding.
Ignorance
really is a pet peeve of mine, but I won’t be able to change it in one
casual
conversation. I will say something to someone when they mention it, but
I doubt
it makes a difference.