As previously mentioned I ventured out to the desert a couple weekends ago. Out of habbit I made my way to a small dry lake past Lucerne Valley. When I first started going to this particular spot I would find myself almost entirely alone. The someone must have posted the location to rec.outdoors.hicks. Now the dry lake is crowded with oversized RVs and chevys hauling quads, dirt bikes and mouth-breathing, bud-swilling rednecks. Their camp sites are simple, just christmas lights strung between vehicles and coolers with cheap beer in cans. No need to set up places to sleep since they'll probably end up passed out in the dirt.
Without delay they hopped on all manner of ill-performing ATVs and dirt bikes. The volume level was astounding. I'm sure it must appear to seismologists that countless small earthquakes occur under the dry lake every weekend. What amazes me, however, is the banal manner in which these losers ride their vehicles. You see, I must clarify that I have nothing against off roading or the vehicles involved. I've come across many cool dirt bikers. I've seen ATV riders having crazy fun. But, I speak of a different breed entirely. In order to understand them it might be helpful to imagine a group of cavemen given a set of Black & Decker power tools.
Shortly after I arrived the lakebed was swarming with daring thrillseekers who would rashly drive at furiously safe speeds back and forth across the dry lake. Yes, these brave offroad warriors probably caravaned for hours hauling thousands of pounds of gear in order to drive in circles on the dirt equivalent of a parking lot. What is sad is that the hills around this area are filled with fun dirk bike paths, sandy hills and interesting topography. I did later see a couple true offroaders venture into the rugged terrain. But, these philistines on wheels were far too busy hollering and revving their engines to wander off the well worn paths. I pulled out a book and made myself as comfortable as I could with all of the racket around me. I watched one particular rider drive to one end of the lake, do donuts, drive back, do more donuts, and repeat this process for about 45 minutes. You have to wonder if the novelty wore off but he was just too "cool" to give it up and too cowardly to try a more reckless path. Most of the drivers stuck together in slow moving packs. A couple times I did see an ATV approach a dip or bump, stop, eye it suspiciously, and slowly ease their vehicle over it. What's the point of riding an off road vehicle if you aren't pushing the limits, taking challenges, and risking your life? Ok, maybe not your life.
Dusk, I ignorantly assumed, would bring an end to the noise and disturbances. As shadows stretched over the lake headlights came on and the annoying drone continued, confined even more strictly within the limits of the dry lake. Adding to the din the camp nearest to me (henceforth referred to as Camp Neanderthal) started up a generator which they ran all night. Then, blowing past all expectations of stupidity, right at dark they pulled out a handgun and began firing. I don't think you need a gun safetey class to know that you shouldn't fire a weapon at something you can't clearly see. Particularly in an area with recreational activities in progress. Being only a few hundred feet away I hastily turned on my headlights to remind them of my presence. Then through the open window I could hear a man offer the gun to, I presume, his son. This was shortly followed by a couple shots in a row and the man saying, "whoa, stand back here to shoot." This advice was continued with something along the lines of "Ok, when ya ain't shootin' you point it up. Hold it firmly and don't fire until you're re- BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!" Needless to say I moved the car substantially farther away. It occured to me that the people in Camp Neanderthal were the same people you hear about who accidentally shoot themselves in the nuts because they rolled over on their gun while sleeping. I always wondered were 1st percentile are. Now I know.
I struggled to fall asleep amid the gunfire and constant whine of engines going back and forth across the lake. For some unexplainable reason one of the big fat rednecks on an ATV decided to visit my car several times and circle tightly around it or sometimes he just stopped a few feet from my window shining the headlights in. The last time I checked the time was around 1am and they were still driving around and firing the handgun in the dark. Eventually I fell asleep. It was all worth it to take a wonderful hike up in the hills the next day. Far beyond the reach of even the most adventurous dirt bikers. All kinds of flowers were in bloom. A kind of cactus which I'm not sure whether to call prickly pear or beavertail was also in bloom. Beautiful and serene. Anyway, I just thought that I'd add that while I'm solidly in favor of the right to bear arms, I'd propose the following change to the second amendement (added text in bold):
...the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed, except for imbecilic white-trash morons.
Ryan's meaningless tidbit for the day: If I ever start up a band, I'll call it Synaptic Failure.
