Chapter 2

Back in the 1950’s, the bottom-most counties in North Carolina were “dry”. Meaning you couldn’t buy any alcohol. No beer. No whiskey. No wine. Nothing. An enterprising man opened a store a few miles into South Carolina. There you could buy gas, some food stuffs, and alcohol. People soon started saying they were going ‘South of the border” to shop and get the libations that were not available at home. The store grew and soon took the actual name of “South of the Border”.

Legend has it that one day, a traveling salesman came to the store, and needed gas and a few items. He was broke. A deal was forged and the owner purchased a supply of cheap “kitsch” items that were put in a display case for resale. They sold quickly. A business deal was forged and the store expanded eventually to become more than a gas station and a general store.

A motel with a pool was built so that travelers could stay the night, and then eat at a diner that was also constructed. Business was booming and the owner realized that if he invested back into the property, he could create something unusual but fun that would have people returning. Eventually there were several restaurants, additional motel tooms and even an amusement park. The name “South of the Border” was becoming a brand, and “Pedro” the spokes-character was soon popping up all over the property on signs and corny advertisements on billboards along the road, with print that exagerated an accent. “You stay at South of theee border! Sleeeep here! Rooms are heir conditioned!”

People loved it and the business continued to grow.

When the interstate system came along, I-95 passed close enough that you could exit and visit. You knew that you were getting close, based on all the silly billboards (Keep screaming, kids! Dad will stop!) and then there was ... The Giant Sombrero in the Sky. Sitting on top of a tower, it could be seen for miles. Especially at night. It was lit up like a glow in the dark UFO, based on the shape.

We had been on the road for only a few hours when I spotted the billboards. I had never been to South of the Border and said that it was probably an interesting tourist trap.

“We can stop there if you want,” Pat answered. “Chica probably needs to water the grass. We can still make it to Virginia within the expected time.”

I had been told earlier that there was no load in the trailer. The company was independent and hauled smaller loads to places that were not typical. Destinations just off the beaten path. Nothing illegal, just stuff that the larger carriers didn’t want to bother with. We would be staying with some of his family for a few days then back on the road to who knew where. “My sister is sure gonna be surprised when you hop out of the cab when we get there!”

Chica stood in my lap, her paws on the door frame, her tail whipping back and forth, excited, and was making happy little squeaks. Her whole body was trembling as she looked out the window.

We exited I-95 and the truck made its way along the service road until we got to the entrance. Pat slowly followed the lane designated for trucks to a large parking area. We stopped and the air brakes hissed. Engine off. I snapped the leash onto Chica so we could hop out. She tugged me towards a grassy area.

I looked around, and I could see that inside the entrance, were quite a number of things to experience. The three of us strolled around. There were lots of other people with dogs, and a sign said that it was allowed to have them with you but all pets had to leashed, and you had to clean up after them. Okay, already take care of.

I realized that it might be a long time, if ever, before I would return here. So I wandered towards a gift shop to see if maybe I could buy something for myself to remember stopping here. Remember, I didn’t have a lot of money, so after looking at the shirts and other overpriced items, I ended up buying a few postcards. I had a few stamps in my purse, so I decided to mail one home.