Mathews County is an isolated peninsula, surrounded on three sides by water. There are only two roads that come into the county: Route 198 and Route 14. All other roads dead end to water, to nothing, or to another road that eventually dead ends or connects back to 198 or 14. (Whew. I'm exhausted. Either this is way too complicated to explain, it is way too boring, I've used too many numbers for my mathematically challenged brain, or I need a nap. OK, so it's boring AND I need a nap. The End.)
You'd think this geographic layout would make for some easy navigation. For example, to the left is water; to the right is water; so let's just go straight ahead or turn back around and go the way we came. But I believe Mathews has one of the most complicated road systems known. To man. I don't know how many miles of backroads we have, but a conservative estimate would be four million.
If you EVER accidentally veer off one of the two major roads, you can expect to surface ten miles from where you first got lost, and only after a search party has been sent to hunt you down.
An old saying around here is "up the road." If someone is up to no good, they're usually "up the road" both literally and figuratively. Teenagers are always up the road. Strangely, soccer moms are never up the road, even though they spend a good part of their day driving up the road. It's a very complicated science, this Up the Road business.
I'm convinced that the genesis of this saying has to do with some poor soul, on a journey "up the road," who took one wrong turn and ended up in a winding web of backroads so convoluted that they just pulled over, took all their clothes off, and went running like a maniac into the woods.
To drink corn liquor.