It’s day 4 of the Epic Ride 2016. I’m way behind on the blog posts. I’m sitting here in an overpriced Moab KOA doing laundry and thinking about how much I really hate people. If you’ve camped enough times over the years, you’ll know that it is incredibly rude to trapse through some one else’s campsite, even if that site is the shortest route to the shitter. Granted, more rustic sites usually have worn paths around the sites, but again, you usually don’t walk through other people’s campsite.
Kids get a pass the first time. But after the third time they startle me and I point my flashlight at them, they should get a clue. The 4th time I say “hey, kid, it’s rude to cut through a guy’s camp.” The 5th time I tell the kid “stop going through my campsite, go through the empty site right next to mine.”
Now, I’m not this kid’s father, and I immediately felt like an asshole, but goddamn it! This fucking site cost me $45… for a shitty KOA site with no fucking firepit!
10 minutes later I’m cleaning up my dishes and locking things down. It’s gotten crazy windy. I’m over by my motorcycle loading the panniers when I hear footsteps. I look over and it’s the dad, going through the empty site. Cool I think to myself, he get’s it. I continue loading my bike. I yawn. It’s been a long fucking day (lost debit card, goose chase to fix loose foot peg, way behind schedule, etc). The dad glares at me and says “you got a problem?”Like I’m the asshole here. If I was a real biker dirtbag I woulda got in the prick’s face. But I’m not, I’m a soft, turdly graphic artist type, so I just said “just yawning, buddy, been a long day.”