Caveboy Monday: How Not to Go Camping, the Conclusion

Thanks for staying tuned and now the conclusion to the story as convoluted as it may be.

We parked the disabled insect off to the side of the road and loaded our pockets with refreshments and started hoofing it back to the main road.  It was soon discovered that we had no means of fire and that lighting a smoke would be out of the question until we made contact with civilization.  We did have one lit cigarette between us.  So we decided that we would keep at least one lit at all times.  Now if you think you’ve had morning breath.  Try that for about an hour.

After about 30 minutes of walking we had made it back to our original stopping point, across the river staring at the lovely fire that was just out of our reach.  Up to this point we had seen no other car for over three hours, and when headlights appeared we were giddy with relief, until we recognized the vehicle as belonging to a park ranger.  Looking up we happen to notice a sign that told us we were in the parking lot for a state park and in addition to identifying where we were it expressly prohibited possession of alcoholic beverages.  When the headlights hit us we each were holding a beer in each hand.  A feeble attempt was made to disguise what we were holding as the car pulled slowly in our direction.

No one said it but it was understood that our night was a fixin to get a whole lot worse.  The occupant of the car exited the vehicle and began to inquire as to our reason for being in the parking lot, with no car, at this late hour.  At this point I remembered Proverbs chapter 17 verse 28; in other words unless it appeared that speaking in my own defense was my only hope of avoiding a night in the hoosegow, shut up.  The roommate eloquently explained our last three hours and why were in the area.  The ranger chuckled out loud and indicated had we taken the second road to the left we would now be enjoying the warmth of the fire we could see across the river.

When asked if he could give us a ride he indicated that he could but that we would have to get rid of the beer first.  That seemed like a fair trade, but then he added he meant that we would have to pour it out.  That seemed a bit harsh, but given the situation, and our lack of a bargaining chip, we acquiesced and disposed of our fire brewed goodness, with much sadness I might add.  Then just as we had poured the last drop of liquid fun out on state property another set of headlights appeared in the parking lot.

A familiar voice called my name and I knew we were saved.  The ranger seemed a bit relieved that he wouldn’t to haul a bunch of shit faced teenagers across the river, and risk getting a floorboard full of recycled Strohs.  He bid us goodnight and reminded us that drinking was not allowed in state parks, but added that our campsite was not in the state park so we were free to consume to our hearts content.

I must say that he was extremely decent about the whole affair, as has been my experience with rangers in Tennessee state parks, and let me add that this was not my first encounter under similar circumstances, nor my last.  One would think that it would be difficult for anything else to happen that would measure up to the previous three or four hours that we had just lived through, but there was one more moment of excitement yet to come.  After our encounter with the park ranger, thank you kind sir for not taking us to jail, we proceeded to our final destination.  We made our way to the warmth of the fire, but not before stopping at the wounded bug and collecting the balance of the suds, which was considerable.

With that our story draws to a close.  Thank you gentlefolk for going along for the ride.

remember nuthins free, so send money

caveboy out