Years ago a buddy and I were traveling in the mountains of North Georgia and got lost. We ended up on some isolated dirt/gravel road. Sometime after midnight we rounded a curve too fast and ended up in a deep ditch. We were stuck and had no idea what to do. Luckily a full, crisp moon was out so we started walking and after a few miles we heard a vehicle coming our way. What an eerie sight to see dim lights approaching in the still of the night along a deserted road.
The truck stopped, an older, gruffy man stepped out and approached us. His breath came out in misty puffs, his walk magnified by the crunch of gravel. I was somewhat scared, I'm sure my buddy was too. Thoughts of Deliverance rang through my head! All he said was, "What's going on?" We explained what happened. "Ain't no one can git ya out till morning." He did say there was an old fish camp nearby that we could probably sleep at. "I can drop ya off there."
We hopped in the back of the truck and he took us to the place. He led us straight to a room, it was open and told us to stay there; someone would come by in the morning. I asked his name and he said, "Henry Holcombe." We thanked him and said good night. We both remarked what a strange man, but being that we were extremely tired went straight to bed. The room was very small with a concrete floor, but thankfully a couple of very nice patchwork quilts. During the night I was awakened by a noise. The noise continued for a few minutes and stopped. All I remember was heavy breathing and crunching of leaves. I fell back asleep and awoke in early morn frost.
The cabin had a screened porch and there was a small table. On the table was a thermos of coffee and some fresh biscuits wrapped up in cloth in a basket! My buddy was standing behind me and we both stood dumbfounded. Oh well, we drank the coffee and enjoyed the biscuits! Soon the proprietor came by.
He said, "Thanks for puttin the money in the overnight box!" I told him that we didn't put any money in a box, that there was a man named Henry Holcombe who picked us up on a nearby dirt road after our car got stuck and he led us straight to this room and that someone would come by in the morning! The proprietor stood dumbfounded. He stated to chuckle kind of nervous like and then stated, "Henry Holcombe used to work for me, but he has been dead for 13 years!
All we could do was swallow real hard, thank the man and high tail it out of there! We found a tow truck, got our car and the whole way back to Atlanta was a conversation I will never, ever forget!
Date that this happened: OCTOBER 31,1975.
By Roger Honeycutt, Copyright 2011