It was a dark, moonless night right before midnight in Vance county, NC. Southbound on I-85. We were to pickup a load of bullets or some small stuff from a smaller manufacturer near Roxboro. The obvious route (big roads) would take us down near Durham, and then back up again. …hmm-mm. US 158 goes straight to Roxboro. So I holler at Robert, cozy and snug in the berth, my plan. Rrr-ugh, zzz, he replied. Taking that to mean,”Far out, dude, LET”S GO FOR IT!”, I nudged the aging corn binder west onto 158.
A pleasant night, to be sure, the two lane was a good road, wide curves and low grades, winding through a mid-level horsey area. Lots of well kept double wides, small barns, little pastures; with horses, goats, the occasional Llama and the like. More Buicks and Mercurys than Beemers and Merceds, but real nice. It immediately reminded me of my child hood neighborhood, in Orange Park Acres, Ca. After driving for a while, I rounded a bend and drew up a rise to be confronted with a bunch of escaped horses, obviously from some someones pasture nearby. A common occurrence in my old neighborhood. So, rather than scaring them with a warning from the International harvester’s air horns, I figgers that, great horseman that I fancy myself, I’ll heroically gather them all up and save them. Then I made my first 911 call of the evening, about midnight. Hi-way Patrol dispatched. The horses, about 7, were trotting along the highway, looking sort of wary, to say the least. I parked my rig, with all lights and flashers on, in the middle of the road, without setting the parking brake. I killed the motor, and put it in low gear, because I did not want to spook these horses any more than they already were.
My idea was to corral these beasties in a nearby yard, between a double wide an a small pasture that had a horse, a donkey, and a sheep or two. I then made my second call to 911, and gave them an address, good they are on the way. Robert chose to stay in the truck. Grunk-ergh ah-hh, zzz. I got it. Well, mister Horse Master sees some of the horses, what are you gonna do?
Arabian Mares? a gelding quarter? nosing up to the landowners livestock, but Boss horse, a Clydesdale?? and the #2 horse,another Clydesdale looking horse, but not, maybe a half breed, seemed intent on taking the herd out on the highway again. I make call #3 to hiway Patrol. Weird, they are having trouble finding the place. Count the anomalies, they are piling up. Oh, yeah, no traffic whatsoever.
Now I decide to whistle and call to a scared monster horse and do what? Wait a minute, he turned around and understood my fear for them being on a road? Coming to a stranger to a soft whistle? Really? He comes and nuzzles me, and as I put my hand on his great neck, I see the weirdest thing. His ankles look like Arabian ankles. And not even covered from his legs with the right skin and hide, but but connected to oversize Draught lookin’ hoofies! He does my bidding, with my hand on his neck, and thinks to all his buddies to gather in the driveway. Robert gets up and joins me. The big lead horse tells #2 that I am an ok guy, and the most beautiful white mare, Arabian/thouroughbred?, and the others go to the darkened back of this property. I make another call to aforementioned authorities. Robert and I turn our attention to the home, and try to wake up someone, by banging on the doors, and ringin doorbells. No response, so we enter the back yard, and discover a Sheriff’s car. So I call 911 yet again and report this. “Oh, yeah, we know, that’s Tom’s house. We can’t seem to be able to reach him.” WHAT??! A Sheriff and his family, don’t wake up when a semi truck and trailer park in front of his house with a herd of horses and two frantic men who are banging on his doors and the 911 CAN”T REACH HIM!!? WHAT THE FUCK??? Finally, the Highway Patrolman arrives. It gets too weird here. As I try to make a logbook joke, but he starts rambling about he is ready to retire but the Gringos have spoiled Costa Rica. The rambling seems similar to the way shape shifters have talked to me, in the past. I also stared into blue lights, a sign of encounters. I then drove away with this weird visualization of, get this, those stylized horses out side of PF Chang’s restauraunts! So I called my mystic friend and told her about some horses and a 20 min. stop. Two weeks later, Robrt remembers NOTHING and the electronic logs show at least TWO AND ONE HALF HOURS STOPPED!!!