Ballybogey Road

The story you are about to read may seem fantastic and beyond belief, but I will tell you that despite the almost urban mythical type tone I can personally attest to the veracity of the people places and pubs in this story. I didn't read this in an email or hear it from a friend who heard it from a friend who heard it from another you been messing around, but rather one of the most trustworthy people that I know, me Uncle Eamon who was an on-site eyewitness to the following ongoings I am about to describe.

I have taken the liberty to Americanize some of the words and expressions for clarity but besides that this is how it was told to me......

Fergal was on his way to McCourt's Pub one night, a pub famous for being the watering hole of the US Marines during the Deuce, Bill Clinton during his stay in Derry, and of course the legendary local of the Donkeyhue Clan, when not to be unexpected in the northwest of Ireland he suddenly found himself in the midst of a torrential downpour.

Fergal must have made this walk thousands of times in his life, and truth be told could walk it backwards and blindfolded and for certain he had done so blind drunk in the past, but this rain was different. He was being accosted by the elements every which way as a heavy fog rolled in along the hills as well. Not being able to even see the smirk on his face he thought it was best to take a brief respite under one of the giant oaks lining Ballybogey Road until the weather turned or a car passed by that he could hitch a ride.

Luck was with Fergal this night as he didn't even get a chance to light a smoke when a car rolled up upon him. Thanking his stars he jumped on in without thinking twice, as the odds were that in these parts they were either family or friend, but upon drying out his eyes and getting settled he realized it was neither.

See, besides Fegal in the passenger seat.... the car was empty, and before he even had a chance to be afraid it started to move along down the road. Well the fear caught up with Fergal right quick as he was now on the verge of shitting himself with fright at the sight of the upcoming cliff which would no doubt mean his demise, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a pale and ghostly hand appear through the mist to turn the wheel averting him of danger.

This continued for a few miles and the hand would only appear to turn the wheel navigating the car through the twists and turns of Ballybogey but never harming our now pale as the ghastly hand Fergal.... just point at him in a menacing manner before disappearing once again into the fog.

Well luck was once again on yer man Fergal's side as the car came upon McCourt's. Knowing that this might well be his only chance of survival he opened the car door dove out and made a run for it. The state Fergal was in was enough to scare the punters inside nearly as much as Fergal himself as he recounted his story before eventually breaking down into tears.

What scared the patrons most is that Fergal wasn't even drunk.

Suddenly, the door opened, and two strangers walked in from the stormy night. They, like Fergal, were also soaked and out of breath. Looking around, and seeing yer man Fergal sobbing at the bar, one said to the other..."Look Padraig.....there's that feckin' idjit that got in the car while we were pushing it!

True story.